In our solitude we drink too deeply
Of our own thoughts and in the quiet
There can come an intoxication
Of free thinking that overwhelms.

Sometimes it's a drink that baffles
And poisons, too. The near-narcotic
Euphoria of always being in agreement
Can leave a bitter reality hangover.

And then there's the loss of control
The mounting frustration of things
As we have them and things as they are.
That's the shaking head-in-hands syndrome.

The willingness to take things
As they come: as they say they are
As they seem to be without eyes shifting
Looking for hidden motives, saves.

To let go of our thoughts
Let them be lifted and shifted
On all the passing breezes
Tests us, proves us, and frees us.

Be alone sometimes
But never awash in only your dreams.
Today is an inspiration, a raptured ecstasy:
A heady wine.

01/13/2005

Posted on 01/14/2005
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