Out of a Cup of Thin Air . . .

  

OUT OF A CUP of thin air

Tossed and turned, whipped up

And spread out

A thing of beauty is created:

Simplicity and substance 

Out of a pot of fool’s gold

Tossed and turned, whipped up

And spread out

A thing of deceit is created:

Vanity and vapour

It was easy to tell

Thin air--- couldn’t hold any fool’s gold

It wasn’t big enough

It had not the capacity to contain the least grain of it

And that--- the truest light should be forever free

And all worthless copies fall away

Which deceived me by filling me

That tricked me by flattering me

Not filling me truly but emptying---Me---

I died

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Even In An Eggcup Of Nothing

EVEN AN EGGCUP of nothing, a cornucopia of beauty

Could contain a fortune, conceive a universe

But who would count on it---touch and believe it?

Because we aren’t so accustomed to reading

Invisible things---and standing on them---

And having everything, thereby

But whittled down to zero having nothing at all

There offered a basket but given a feast 

There---there was the pleasing for the heart’s eye

In seeing two distinct things---

And at the back of my palate I tasted a comfort in it---

And being storm tossed and not comforted

Satisfying something in me somewhere 

Not possible in the natural world

To stand on nothing

And have that hold you up---

But in the super world

Where I lived it was entirely possible

And I could walk on air

And feast on it---

A well of water inside

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