My Terrain

All my life is spent sucking the poison out of my mind,
Dismantling the walls I put up on the ground,
Weaving through them in search of what’s not there to find;
One year I build it, the next tear it down.

Over the flat plains beneath the ink sky
Is the limitless ever-deep ocean of stars
And the same love and wonder you catch in another’s eye,
Needing never to travel way out there.

On our flat, wide terrain we build mazes, settle hazes,
A haze that blocks the clear, bright sun
That makes everything simple; but we complicate
Finding webs in the corners that form every turn.
We twist and wind, but we can’t unbind
From the bricks that are only vapor.
And the mirrors we hung around all of the walls
Burn our reflections into our mind
And that becomes all we see and seek.

In the house of so many levels,
There is rumored somewhere to lay a great treasure.
It’s not the treasure itself, but its promise
That sources the miracles we see around every bend.
And you can take either side of the coin:
Either something – your treasure – is always amiss,
Or every moment you live is in magic and bliss
Rooted in nothingness.                                                          

May 9, 2010