The Mystic’s Dream

A mystic dives into the clear

summer sea through garlands

of seaweed he sees

a navel of eels

spiraling upwards.

He pauses his crafty strokes

and ponders the meaning of this.

The sun flashes through his

humming ears and sharks

pull at his sorcerer’s cape.

A word immerses his thoughts

and the pit is pulled from

underneath.

He drowns with the hungry

sharks until there is no more

of his mind to eat,

and is left to circumnavigate

the sun from the surface

under the deep,

reflecting the movements

of the upward swimming

eels.

Time grew wings and flew

Time grew wings and flew

backwards into the sunset.

It hid in the dark and disregarded

the stars travelling past.

But time did not change,

no matter how far back it ran.

Change happened anyway;

light to dark, young to old, life to death

and death to life again.

So time re-emerged

defeated and worn out

it realized it had become

a ghost, obsolete and forgotten

as life had continued to turn in its absence.