The Third World Of The Mind

The day is full of eyes, a desert of faces,
the corridor full of weeping images
and the moon casts an icy blue light.

Now morning opens like a door
inviting me in to examine the future
where I study the catechism of seed, fruit, core.

The flawless entrance of morning light reveals
a suddenness of trees
and all the old dreams
fading to whispers.

and before the nuclear dawn
I look up at the pale abundance,
the legendary space where hope remains.

In this light foot season,
I return to a simpler time,
a carefree time,
a time of fruitful innocence
pure with wonder
fragrant with remembrance.