The Synergist
As a child he discovered
how to assimilate, merge and verge.
His five senses did not become six,
but a number closer to one.
That day, water drooled over mossy stones.
He smelled the splash of foaming atoms,
the explosive opening of water-buds.
He thought to himself:
'I can paint my mind
over the sky as if it were a cave wall.'
A swan rose up, wings clattering,
water ligaments pulling a wingspan
through a Catherine Wheel of sound.
His senses flew together
forming clumps of reality
which seemed to him to be new planets,
realities thrown from the minds of
angelic water voles and frogs.
He thought:
'If I place myself into these little worlds
I can leave my footprints
on running water, or on the air
as if I were a bird created
by the light of a foreign sun.'
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2021
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