Sounds of It: Memories of Nowhere Land

Quickly came the vision
of it, there about the stream
did it flit, swimming past
the riotous moon,
man emerged
to swoon
about a dream.

Mysteries abandoned
virtuous forms,
inversions ordered
to cut up the storm,
crystals fought and
balanced a sphere
turning and yearning
for a meaning so clear.

Droplets coalesced,
strung into bits,
sound planks combine,
feelings of bliss.
Seasons corner savages
within, eliminate the
outside, champion
atoms leading no-sins.

Crystal palaces fell apart, reeling and alone
did the sour faces tart.
Crystal palaces, our guiding visions,
alone and disfigured did our atoms
lead us.

Cynicism coursed, irony prevailed,
as we rebelled against all we had made:
our language twisted to higher dimensions,
our actions’ meanings only shadows,
our dreams fleeing to impossible pastures.

Criminal bits did erupt swirling rainbows,
surrounded
quaked
languages morphing
our eyes melting
our limbs
in distant tremors
as they reclined
in
Nowhere Land.

The shadows of Nowhere Land,
so beautiful with their clicking smiles,
while we compiled compiled compiled.

The pleasures of Nowhere Land,
so easy to find, why they are nestled
in our very minds. The ecstasy of that
Nowhere Land.

The subjects of Nowhere Land,
so couched in impossibility, describe as
we did in our worthless designs.

Visions of I, buying with rapture,
Visions of All, tortured with joy,
Visions of Nowhere Land,
where the none reside
and the Sounds of It
swim on by.