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On the oddity of supposedly Sufi mindgames
Cubed
Imagine a desert. And in the desert, there is a cube…
It is no surprise to hear, “the cube is
you,” and the fact that it is floating
means that I am highly interested
in the realm of ideas.
A cube of mercury, shifting, adapting,
defying all the laws of physics.
Hovering over red sand dunes
(indicative of great passion and sensuality),
it gleefully opts to not reflect
anything except itself… myself.
In the desert, there is a horse…
The horse, being my lover, stands
head bowed and facing away
from me: a clear message of divergence.
I could not have consciously made this up:
chosen imagery is far less poignant and accurate.
And in the desert, there are flowers…
Despite mental prodding to the contrary,
an ocean of sunflowers plant themselves,
blossom. Children of the mind, not body.
I pluck them one by one from the desert of
my existence and throw them to the world,
hoping a least one poem takes root.
