FROM CARIOU TO HERKIMER
I have wandered white, with both eyes closed.
I have sat for hours fast asleep while pretending
to be awake - it is all so simple really and there
is no difference to be seen. Jongleur and troubadour,
both, have already entered the scene and gone.
Music plays faintly somewhere softly.
-
The ridges in the land are patterns for the scape -
high hills, ragged promontories, jagged bluffs of
rock and stone. Glacial graffiti, as it were, of times
long gone. High above the land, I manage looking down
without too much trouble : without so much as a blink,
without ever realizing that my eyes are still shut.
-
Angels may come and angels may go -
winged messengers scarfed and bundled with
raiment and glow. Singing celestial songs, they
hover close. I hear the music, but still see nothing.
I wonder, occasionally - am I an angel, or just a man?
I have wandered white, with both eyes closed.
I have sat for hours fast asleep while pretending
to be awake - it is all so simple really and there
is no difference to be seen. Jongleur and troubadour,
both, have already entered the scene and gone.
Music plays faintly somewhere softly.
-
The ridges in the land are patterns for the scape -
high hills, ragged promontories, jagged bluffs of
rock and stone. Glacial graffiti, as it were, of times
long gone. High above the land, I manage looking down
without too much trouble : without so much as a blink,
without ever realizing that my eyes are still shut.
-
Angels may come and angels may go -
winged messengers scarfed and bundled with
raiment and glow. Singing celestial songs, they
hover close. I hear the music, but still see nothing.
I wonder, occasionally - am I an angel, or just a man?
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