I know the universe works mentally…
I know everything.
He came upon a revelation.
We all see it differently.
A summer’s breeze
Is nothing is
One soprano in an Aeolian choir is
God’s breath is
A brotherly flux in air pressure is
Feeling balmy on the skin after
All day sending emails.
The mind is as malleable as code:
You can edit, you can edit, you can edit.
Fear that I frittered my teenage years
And will stay playing catch-up
For however long I’m here;
Fear that a taut abdominal wall
Is the only partition
Between me, Joe Bloggs, et al.;
Fear that I can’t yoke words like Danny Brown,
Or spill seventeen pitchers
Of wit whilst acting the clown;
Fear that I do things I knew I would not,
Fear that my old-old-self I,
By necessity, forgot;
Fear that my idols are far less than their prattle;
Fear that i don’t really fear
This fear list
‘In a perfect world I would be perfect, world.’
Let’s talk long-term goals,
I mean really long-term,
Once the papery child has chewed the cud
And we’ve becked our metal ravens home to brood;
Once the five-day-week is ground to crud
And my neighbours reside round my longitude.
Then what will we do?
I suggest we create and love, love and create:
Sculpt towers to tower the empire state,
Write novels to crystallise human fate,
Paint portraits no honest heart could berate;
Eat fruits fed by oblivion’s river
And thank Earth for the time that you have with her.