Part Eight

I suppose there will be an end to this
How can we dance forever
It's beyond consideration of meaning
We must call it an experience

Colors and sounds and movements
Some personality trying to explain
I noticed all the small things
Facial expressions... garments... trinkets
The depth of meaning measured inches

How could the superficial penetrate eons
I wasn't really happy... I wasn't anything
It was just a skirmish in the hall
Just a shoulder brushing by
Just a red bird in the wilderness

A little boat bobbing in the bay
Pathways through the tall buildings
Her smile shining like sun off polished metal
Wild flowers in the mountain meadow

The room where joining voices rose to an incoherent din
The magic of mental associations skipping across as you stare
Not seeing... not looking... and then intent!
Uplifted... no... aghast at the scene

She sits by him... they are all hypnotic
My heart is shaken by this whitness
He said nothing