The views much better up here in the blue fog.
Down there in the brown murk, slow fires burn blurred
Between dark spaces. But up here in the clear blue
I can see myself reflected in the firmament.
A matrix of meaning. Points of light.
So what do I do with this perception? I gaze at it
And taste it tentatively, sniffing like a cautious hyena.
Not noticing how my model and I slide slowly back into brown dark.
And as the stars grow dim and chaos’ roar sounds,
Does my soul go up or down? My heart slides
And freezes as a sense of cold reality
Strokes my shivering skin. These fires aren’t hot.
They burn cold and constraining.
And the dark places are full of demons.
There’s nowhere left but back up.
Now where did I put that lighter