Inverted Prism of Consciousness

Brush with Horizons Scientists daydream of higher dimensions Some find these visions exceedingly bright I fall for something not half as pretentious Thrill of untethered, free, blind flight I crave not snowstorm bursting from cloud Nor dread thick fog that sneaks up on the sly But flight over water where stars on the ground Brightly reflect limpid stars of the sky Thin razor blade of far, murky horizon Lost in profusion of stalled fireflies May be diagonal, may be up-rising May be redundant, for all that implies Stars, whirling round in dark midnight''s embraces Am, starkly airborne, swept with delight What end awaits mebreaking the surface Grasping the void or awaking in fright? All these don''t matter in moment''s delusion But for a feelinglike faint, distant scream That, when they find me, my wrists will be oozing Torn on sharp edges of prodigal dream