Anymore...

 

A Friend From The North...

It's not the wings that get you,

Mostly,

But the fierce intelligence,

Traveling the globe through the most spiritual places,

Seeing what would be quantum noise to us,

Places we are not,

Anymore.

In the undermind,

I call a friend,

Flight of the mind's eye,

Synchronized beats,

Playing three-D with empty space and time,

Where you are not,

That's mine,

Only because you don't listen,

Anymore...

The small tightness of detail,

The "anywhereness" of infinite scenes,

Elaborate wood carving of fantastica,

Too busy to practice pareidolia in mahogany,

You don't invest in purposeful months,

Anymore...

The quiet places,

Where you see what those places might be,

Inside your own head,

Outside of time,

The Universe between your ears,

You don't spend hours in,

Anymore...

Your time is carved into eighths of an inch,

Spit at you like machine gun fire,

Each tiny quanta painted in someone else's dream palette,

Not your own design,

Not,

Anymore...

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

(C) 03/22/2025