2016 10 29
When I sit alone in my room at night
I stare at the white wall of loneliness
and see the memories of life and death
my ancestors dreamed on their paths of hope
before they sparked alive new reborn soul
so all their souls flow down into my mind,
merging millions into my glowing brain.
One evening as the bright sun disappeared
in blazing flash of fire behind far hills
dark angel with long black hair and black eyes
placed small tablet of bright glass in my hand
that beams connected tight in world wide web
of blinking machines where billions of souls
store photographs of their faces preserved
in shining stream that flashes on its screen.
Now when I sit in my room late at night,
alone in one white box in endless maze
of boxes, I read flowing stream of words
encoded by fingers in charming spells,
written by thousands of strangers I know,
which cause my mind to dream visions they see
so I see this world through their open eyes.
Instead of alone at night with mute ghosts
of my ancestors, who whisper my name
they designed and wrote on ocean beach sand,
I dream life with thousands of living ghosts
who dwell in cities all over this globe,
one small drop in swirling ocean of souls,
for all their words and photographs reflect
fragmented world into dome of my mind
so I assemble in puzzle of truth
vast vision of life from millions of minds.
Alone I cannot see past my eye-bound scope,
but on tablet of one world mind I see
enormous globe through millions of your eyes.