Pipe Dreams

Slow pulses beat behind my eyes

Rising, ever rising

At first slowly, then faster and faster

Through tattered clouds and swirling smoke

Skyward-bound with visions in my eyes

Of Nymphs and Dryads beckoning

Voices ringing like silver bells

Eyes that dance and hair of burnished gold

This is not the clay of earthly sorrows

Where all I touch sinks into decay and mould

This is something else altogether

This is new, exhilarating, a spinning carousel

Of light and colour where the brass ring

Passes ever closer within easy grasp

I know this time is short

The fall from such a height will be great

I’ll ride this wave for as long as it will last

Feeling it begin to curl beneath my feet

Before it breaks apart in flecks of foam

Tossed high into the open air

The crash of rolling thunder

Resounding in my ears

So unlike the dreary progress

Of hours and days that pass for the march of time

A hundred separate moments

Time itself is stretched each moment

Pushed together then let go in a single burst of fusion

A spectacle of light and sound delighting every sense

Too soon, too soon the ride is over

An experience like no other experience

A sensation like no other

A time like no other time

A journey like no other

So “Buy the ticket. Take the ride”

A journey worth the price

Of your admission.

Dedicated to H. S. Thompson

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