Consciousness

I was blind and empty
A vapid reflection
Deceived by my own titles
With a mere air of reality.

And then a crux
A solid, dense cross
Crashed on the shadow of my back
Creating a surface
And my life was formed
Of something heavier.
I took on mass
And grew opaque.
I was real, real, real
Vivid, almost garish.
Painful in existence
Shrill and stuffed with knowing.
I saw in three-dimensional contrast
The good and evil and fearful
In the world
And I longed to go back.

I sought out misty echoes
I shrunk into shaded caverns
Of half-life dreaming
I hummed a partial tune
I squinted and blurred my sight
Willing blindness to return me
Up that twilight path
Of intuited perception
To forget again the
Sharp, tangy peal and clang
That wakens slumber
And shakes us out of bed
Into the daylight.

(c) 2011 Tasha Chinnock