The Return

I was inspired to write this Lewis Carrollian prose poem after seeing a good friend of mine after many years. Love you, CJ.

Sometimes in this night long world of moonless tears and mirthless gnashing,
Sometimes in this wakeful rut of insomnia mornings and headache weeks of arrested growth,
of menial days of stop-loss progress, of mealy miles of meaningless motion,
Sometimes in this seasick tottering of toiling autonomous monotony,
Sometimes in this loitering life of bygone dreaming, when you look up out of your own decay sometimes you can believe enough to see straight and clear out of this waste bin coffin,
where the bad ideas of the universe are crumpled and thrown away, oblivion,
you can perceive a full color world of hue, a progress world of sound,
where walk the wonders of breath alive,
where love the life-people,
a strange and incomprehensible thing for the dark of no matter,
but you can, I find, if you let it, when you allow,
Sometimes in this place of grace you can looking glass glance a wonder
and see that there is life living,
and living too can life you.

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