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
