I feel this anxiety,
this worrying about the very next moment,
anxious about the now,
this squirmy squiggly feeling in my belly
that erupts in organisms
rocketing out like jets of living water
that saturating the lifestream I’m currently in,
it walks up to my head
and there’s this frantic worry
that I’ll never have the best sex face.
I’m not here, I’m not there, I’m just in my body,
chugging along, as a single organ pushing through,
painfully towards a new life.
Change is so painful.
I wish I’d been screaming about in the river as a child
thrashing for joy,
throwing myself into the forever tide
again and again.
Who has forgotten how to play?
Can it only be word games and turns of thought?
Where in lies the absurd comedy of the physical,
tangible in front of you and the thing you hide yourself within?
What ecstasy has been left behind for memory to fondle?
How can this have happened to humanity?
Why have the fae-folk gone, walking back through the thick mists of Avalon?
Can’t they come back?
For Camelot always resided within,
the home of truest chivalry,
epic mischief and
the fun of an open road
through dark corners and sunlit groves,
it was the mind’s eye that saw through the fog as a child.
Now grown we are blind to ourselves,
to our inner most,
that is ever still not merely a child,
better left quiet than asking questions,
no, those were our purest selves,
acting hap hazardly upon a world barbed and lovely,
feeling pain with newborn skin,
capturing every moment in the clearest film of fresh lit eyes,
there was no joy greater
No greater treasure than discovery,
The world is brand new, and so art you, human.
Made to feel and ponder
To reach out with your every sense
To make contact with your very being
In wonderment and celebration of existence
This is for you
This is all, for you.
All of it.