I drop to my knees with images
A scrape to each round bone
But a larger one to my mind
Is it possible to bring an ocean to your eyes
But not feel the wetness?
To have an under water forest of thoughts
But not be able to view your own mind?
To find out that imagery
May not be your reality?
The mind has caused an earthquake
With a crack that leaks the crimson lava
Burning my poor smile
Melting it to a frown
What has happened to the once crystal ocean?
Why has it turned an endless brown of cooled lava?
From pollution
For I have polluted it with my eyes, my words, my ears.
So as I fall from my knees
Into a remembered position at birth
One word clears from my thoughts
Why?
©2005 Paul Celano