When my attention does a somersaultsome way above the fontaneal
I'm flung into the wide, concave mirror
into the white light that shimmers with
a kaleidoscope of suggested colours, with
sandalwood, rose and water
freezing cold yet, below the numbness,
warming like an undeniable fact
my skin tingles as if strengthening
I hear a beat: a drum or perhaps a huge lions paw
and am drawn down
ready to face it all
ready to translate it all
ready to become the indefinable,
all the more.
