I’m literally sitting by the dock on the bay,
waiting for a boat to take me away.
I embark to labor across seas.
I’m a laborer although it’s not what I’m supposed to be.
My pen is prolific. It yields a barrage of words.
My mind is a spring that allows my thoughts to unfurl
like sails catching solar winds and dragging me across the cosmos.
My essence is enlivened. This feeling is what I love most…
That opening of a channel that’s like a secret compartment in the panel
on the wall that hides possibilities from the forlorn and makes man ill…
Sickened by turning away from himself and thinking there is happiness in wealth,
while I fold into zen like flour into eggs and milk and drift away on the melodies of the Celts.
There’s more to life than what is seen, heard, smelt, and felt.
My dreams are reflections of the cards I have been dealt.
I split into sections. My mind divides like our cells.
I cover ground like shadows. I ring like dour bells,
signaling the procession to move towards the plot.
To hell with a vault. Cover me with soil, not with rock,
so that my transition may be swift and I give back what I’ve borrowed
un-begrudgingly. I will have my time to shine. Deny sorrow,
and bless the days that were allowed… And be thankful.
Don’t allow yourself to become resentful
of the natural scheme of things… the changes and the shifts
that actually made it possible for us to have this…
This dance with the elements…
This glorious result of universal precedents
that birthed consciousness and crafted spiritual resonance….
that connects all things like invisible threads
orchestrated by itself as it weaves its own web.
Errol Percival Jr.