Déjà vu- poem by Muse
My life, sometimes I ponder,
God.....did he fashion my hands and skin from another?
Am I just a recovered tired vessel,
refurbished lung and breath, reassembled, to be something fragile?
My fears and defects I feel are not my own,
borrowed and rented maybe, from someone once known.
Your voice just a proverbial song.
It feels ancient, but like an undercurrent, it carries me along.
My story perhaps is a plagiarism of you,
a reincarnation of what I might answer, and what I might do.
With every deliberate ill-mannered step,
someone before me, has already passed, lingered, and slept.
My soul, has it lived before?
It seems to be the same narrow path, but a different revolving door.
Seeking answers in restorative dreams,
this body, however temporary, is not what it seems.
My thumbprint a reminder of her,
your girlish vision, a familiar relic, with a haunting blur.
Is this a case of refuted Deja vu?
Or just maybe, she's a vicarious spirit, that has been there too.
I.... felt as If I was dropped into the middle of the park like a tornado touched down and regurgitated my entirety into the dirt.
Siting and looking around I thought to recover my senses from the last years worth of experiences and the seemingly odd and recurring ???types of things. A kind of Déjà vu of someone elses life.They must have been a mystic because they seemed to see…I seemed to see…as thru a proverbial glass darkly.
I found that peoples thoughts and memories were easily seen and felt in their presence and that their entire life histories were… Mine ..just for the looking or rather thinking of the thought to trigger their inner most secrets. The intricacies of their lives and the interrelated woven tapestry of their Dharmas and Karmas were unfolded to my mind and knowings as one continuous scroll of life.
Invigorating and compelling to be part and parcel to the workings of Life , but confusing and tiring keeping up and interacting as a vocation.I was supposed to be a Home Design specialist with a hobby of -White Lite WICCA….Hobby of the weekend I chuckled to myself.
Well ,now I was fully awake and centered again ..and as I rose from my place in the dirt I noticed I had been sitting as was far too familiar as of late and pondering the strangeness of my life…in the middle of a strange place , not remembering how I got there or why. Well so much the bother ,I was here now and I believe my calendar says I have , oh yes an appointment I’m late for already. Up I get and brushing myself off,I head out in the direction for my Meeting with a small company of Artists decorating their loft and space for exhibiting their recent works. Clover- Wolf was the odd name of their business.
Well maybe a quick design idea there…wolfs head over a four leaf clover…hmm well maybe not, Lame at best.
© 2011 Eclipsing Moon-blood red