What does it feel like to be oddly unaware of the proportions of your body?
When all you imagine yourself to be is a distorted figure
Forever shifting shapes and lengths
Like in a fun house mirror at the carnival.
But this is no illusion, my friend.
You open your eyes
Stretch out your legs
And it looks to you as though
You are two feet longer
Than you were an hour ago.
You close your eyes
And your cheeks have grown plumper
And the ground feels almost reachable
Without kneeling.
You curl up into a ball in fear
And realize the sensation has stopped.
You can only be as Down to Earth
And as High in the Heavens
As you feel.
But who says you have to pick one?
Jun 12, 2012
Jun 12, 2012 at 10:59 AM UTC
What does it feel like to be oddly unaware of the proportions of your body?
When all you imagine yourself to be is a distorted figure
Forever shifting shapes and lengths
Like in a fun house mirror at the carnival.
But this is no illusion, my friend.
You open your eyes
Stretch out your legs
And it looks to you as though
You are two feet longer
Than you were an hour ago.
You close your eyes
And your cheeks have grown plumper
And the ground feels almost reachable
Without kneeling.
You curl up into a ball in fear
And realize the sensation has stopped.
You can only be as Down to Earth
And as High in the Heavens
As you feel.
But who says you have to pick one?
Request permission to use this poem