Today is boring, today is dull. How can I float up high
without looking at the sky? Keener eyes not grounded, but in the middle of this
and that, hers and mine, cries and sighs, laughs and jitters, cuckoo and
balderdash, all this and a pinch more with a tinge of lustrous gold, confronts
me every lethargic moment asking me to be agile and give an answer not a reply,
one that is worthwhile.
Sham, it is a sham, I shout. The next moment I am out in the
middle of that riddle, attacked badly by the crowd. Glares wicked or kind, I
tell you are invincible. Hush! Hush! Staying quiet is the key.
A fresh beginning, in between, for me as I get up to admire
the quagmire that glows and shows me nothing.
And what do I do? I hum a rhythm, I jig a little. Smoothly I begin dancing,
hand movements and the twist and then the circle. Round and round and round.
I see an image in and around me crystallising, a translucent
image, spreading like a wave, filling the ceiling, passing through the windows,
leaving behind glorious dirt particles and a thin film of light. And so I sit and admire
the ordinary.
