Blind Questions And Deaf Answers 
 

It's a most detached sensation, 
wrapped in frost bitten elation, 
when my mind takes its stride ahead of my feet 
and my overtaxed lungs cry out in defeat. 
Crashing waves on my perception 
cause my thoughts to change direction, 
while my anguish and my tensions 
assume superstring dimensions. 

When a thread in my logic becomes unfurled 
I find myself sunk in an Neptune's world, 
where the seas lap and laugh over what is called reason 
and their spawn dwells the deep in an eternal season. 

With every short gasp for a breath of sweet air 
the ocean gives birth to a rising sphere, 
an orb of imprisoned, luminous words, 
which race through my veins like buffalo herds. 

My mind is a plectrum and plucks upon strings 
of liquid gold sundew, which transcends all things, 
resonating through time and through space and beyond, 
as a stone causes ripples to blanket a pond. 

Questions are drawn from the well in my head, 
flowering answers are burnt in their beds, 
and the voice, which lingers like juice of a peach, 
ponders, "How much sand is considered a beach?"
 
 

 (C) Copyright 1999
Nick Kellaway 
All Rights Reserved