from the fringes of consciousness|
the spirit that belongs not to time
insinuates a sudden sense of strangeness
unravelling the thread that is to guide
me thru this silent labyrinth
buried in the dark substanceless corridors of thot
dreams whisper the real solution
but in the loneliness of utter isolation
silence distorts my thinking
mutating it towards something ungraspable
-- just beyond the edge of understanding
over the threshold...
beyond the forgotten end...
i begin touching what i
had once only glimpsed of the great unknown
a sense of the infinite
flowers the day after eternity
& i remember no beginning...
~~norman e. masters