What will you do when the clocks no longer tell? After you smash to pieces Cronos' clock And you slip into the stillpoint as the Eye opens In the palm of your hand; after you cross The Threshold and return to offer up your Boon To man. When the ego falls away and you begin your Gift of servitude. When the trees drip light, and each child you See has around their head a circle of light. Light surging up and over, Bleeding from eyes and hands; Oceans of light illuminating beaches; Lovers enveloped in a cocoon of light; The crow blasting through photons, Climbing currents into the face of the sun To erupt in all-consuming flame; Like William Blake driving Apollo's Chariot into a supernova; Walt Whitman pulling from the River Why a fish erupting and igniting his Beard, showering him in corpuscles of light; Like a Devish whirling, shooting off sparks And laughing like a madman dancing and Burning in the Dragon's jaws. And Vincent, in your dreams, deep in a Sea of sunflowers looking up at you With the wondrous eyes of a child And waving his arms like a Sorcerer Conjuring and you see what he sees: