A tear rolls down a swollen cheek,
Eyes are blue where violence wreaked,
The sob of tortured life wracks body and mind,
As that blow slows time,
Red blood spots bare skin and canvas,
A world spinning in coloured blackness,
As mind drifts to a place of comfort,
The other raises fists triumphant,
The crowd hollers in jubilance,
Worry not for me just call that ambulance.

There are other worlds than these,
For which world do we exist?
A plane of multiple existences,
There lies the twist.
Without knowing the answer to the riddle,
One’s endless search for the enigma begets,
Another world.
The search ever in continuance,
For meaning and of life.
‘till the day comes,
To enter the plane,
Of other worlds than these.

Rolling down the street,
like a die on the table,
what you roll,
is what you get,
the number shows,
unbeknownst,
surprise arrives,
a hint of beauty cross you,
you can't believe your luck.

Sands drift downward,
Filling from empty to full,
A libran scale unbalanced,
Life on the fulcrum,
Which way it drifts,
Causes a life,
From empty to full,
Were it weighs?
Full of what?
Time will show.

The ball flies fast,
from player to player like giant pinball,
each touch is a score,
for each pass is a telepathic reward,
of hours spent honing skill and strategy,
friends playing friends achieving their dreams,
to show the world on game day your skill unbound,
there is escape for those on court and of court alike,
the worries gone replaced by the battle of mind and body,
only the ball matters,
a pass high above the hoop leads to alley oop,
the crowd cheers and your heart is gleeful,
for the art is witnessed by all.

Spotlights on glare is hot,
People look with waiting stare,
I stumble to remember,
Their voices present inside,
As I find within what I must present,
I have practiced long and hard,
Their moment and mine entwined,
Their realty in my grasp,
My courage floods in waves,
And my voice powers,
I remind those in my midst of what I bring,
Their ears sing as do mine,
As I reminding the world of my gift.

Look around the present and what do you find,
Things real and unreal to behold,
A fissure small between the divide,
It's matter of fact is the matter,
Pliable to mind,
You search The tatter,
What you find in inside,
Is yours to mould,
To break the bind.