mythic world

everyone needs some mythology, if only to--no: as a strength, a superhuman one no less. The brain we have, there's lots of imagination in there, much more than an atheist could ever muster to explain. And it's created spaces obliterating titanic beyond our understanding, but within our capacity, for the love of this world, it has. Everyday we create it, every moment that we see someone else; those that are alive, that is, we, beyond the grind that antithetically, we've created. To believe in something bigger than ourselves; how big is ourself? Bigger, how, then? To exceed. Do you buy it? Are you really believing into the myth? Or, underneath, are you really buying into the ephemeral, materialistic, manufactured mundane?!

Surging, that line
breathing through every look
of love, the grind,
---that curve down the
bridge of that child's nose
---with the hand,
Finger--he's asleep,
----dead as a corpse
that woman, the grind,
---staring at mother & child
fearing of life, hurting
----from it. Tunnel,
is filled as we shoot through
it.

All the world's asleep. All us
children, leglets dangling,
imaginations off dreams auto-
pilot on
to the next stop--
world rumbles under our bodies;
we pass under the river
where river clams & fish
eye us like we're the aquarium people;
lifetimes long pilgrimage passes
across the footprints of Odysseus--
and come out breathing hard, breathing
alive,

reverent and grateful to the people surrounding with eyes.