A thought comes to the brink of my mind
then shies back, afraid of the light.
I cannot imagine what it might be.
In a thousand imaginations,
I have dreamed escapades and dances,
and grand castles in the air
filled with visions of all the friends
I wish I had had; I have wondered
impossible things, tragic things,
dark things, delusions of myself
and the world, tiny things that
flit off, huge things that I
could never fit completely
into two thoughts at once.
What have I not imagined?
I have glimpsed light that was
heavenly, and I have smelled
fumes quite hellish, been saved for
all eternity, been damned in this world
and the next, believed myself enlightened,
knew myself to be an idiot. What
thought could there be left?
I poke myself on the inside:
come here, come here, for there
is nothing that I have left to fear:
what are you that you could
possibly think yourself too strange?
Then the thought comes, and
I find am I still able to be surprised:
"if you forgot to love, you missed
the whole point." I can only smile.
