THE DESTRUCTION OF AN ARTISTIC SOUL
Effused by shades of Grey,
As if in some nightmare;
As if in some strange out of body experience.
Travelling lighter than air,
Beyond dimensions;
Beyond myself.
Within the channels,
Brainwaves zap my vessel;
As I try to plot
Charting a course within this matter.
I am the pilot major,
A neural mind mapper;
Today.
Inside my own awareness.
Trapped;
No rather dazed and confused,
I travel on seeking for that which was lost.
Innerspace so unprofound,
Neurons, electrons and other effects
Cannot tell me
How I should think; or where my conscience lies.
As the morphine enters my blood stream,
The phenomenon only appears post facto.
Where was intuition,
When death chose to vacate ?
Cry for me no more!
© : Ludolf R. Grollé
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