Drift

Resolute but delicate, tarmac and burgeoning life whisper
As caricatures are left crestfallen at the ambassador's masked ball.
Welcome to my world.
The long walk home, a marketplace of the mind.
Keep it real this time.
No belittling of shadows just an awareness that covert aromas
Need not transgress the heart but that ripe temptations from the Tree of Knowledge
Are but a staging post and a call to action as the play begins;
And a planet of matinee idols throw away their scripts.
A steady pace outside of time - no aches or disappointments; no assaults upon my
person.
Barbed comments abandoned in a forest clearing where a traveller's fire once burnt
And expectant shaman dabbled with mischievous spirits then wound their way home,
Twigs snapping beneath hardened feet.
--------
Drift,
Drift,
Spirit in flux.
Drift,
Drift,
The long walk home.
Drift,
The curve of motion.
--------
Undergrowth like mystic pixels in my mind's elaborate hologram.
Oceans I hover above hold no dead or transparent predators;
Just fragments of a creator on the lookout for Unity.
Calling,
Bleeding,
Reaching for the land;
Or a hand to hold.
Reminiscing about mountains scaled;
The path stretching ahead like a fuse wire of the bitter subconscious,
Somehow reconciled to waking life
And routine with its own wonder and sunlight.
--------
Drift,
Drift,
Spirit in flux.
Drift,
Drift,
The long walk home.
Drift,
The curve of motion.
--------
Rome at night.
Electricity.
Lightning of the purest, unabashed variety.
Pointing at me.
Reflecting my heart back to God.
Waking the choirs from their slumber.
Silky words in narrow streets.
Society taut but warm. Family more than just a notion.
Eyes alive in R.E.M. flick a switch and the torrent lifts.
--------
Drift,
Drift,
Spirit in flux.
Drift,
Drift,
The long walk home.
Drift,
The curve of motion.
--------
The landscape and my lucid guide unfurls sanctuary before me
In the form of somehow familiar strangers.
Millions of lifetimes connected by delicate invisible threads;
Ricocheting throughout history.
Uniting like-minded souls.
Not radicals and yet perhaps to embody love is the most radical thing of all.
Community.
Hopeful,
Vibrant,
Community.
Here artisans measure the Universe, mould atoms,
And turn neurons into Catherine wheels.
But no effigies here.
Sacrifice of the heart is what keeps the Earth spinning on her axis.
And these people will keep me turning and rotating - serenaded by the spheres,
And an orchestra of particles - God in microcosm.
The Cosmos in an aqua-blue iris.
--------
Drift,
Drift,
Spirit at peace
Drift,
Drift,
I've made it home.
Drift,
The wheel of time.

www.johnhobbs.com