This place defies explanation.
Down is up,
up is down
and sometimes
the direction doesn’t matter.
Sometimes time
is a stairway,
or a ladder,
or a river.
Sometimes the path
is a minute,
or an hour,
or a year.
The sky might be
above your head on Monday,
and be there,
below your feet by the weekend.
Head in the sand.
Head in the clouds;
it doesn’t matter.
All our afflictions
are endless here.
“Free your mind,”
they say,
“and your ass will follow.”
But free men are rare here,
and free minds rarer.
That’s why I’m sitting here
staring at this nuclear horizon,
stripped of vestments
and peeling off my ego.
Born clean,
but I’ve dipped in the corruption,
loaded my compass,
now I’m seeking something true.
Up and down,
don’t matter where I’m going.
It’s neither here,
nor there,
nor near,
or even far.
The ladder,
or the stair,
or the elevator;
I don’t care,
I’m going to get here.
One way, or the other,
I will get there.
Once I’m done
stripping off this ego,
I’ll be weightless.
HG – 2019
Great post 😁