Layer by layer, by layer by layer
that was their time
peeling away the decades awakening process,
that old record skipping
dust takes time not space,
to be gone by one swipe?
That white glove is not so white anymore
I always felt a black glove would reveal more
so, I put that black glove on, and went deep
I noticed it was nothing solid, nothing that appeared to be real
at least a moment later--
like here, when we are born?
How did they decide on that conclusion?
I've died countless deaths, only to arrive, here?
Oh, there I Am!
I just needed a physical mirror to notice myself,
this makes no sense
all these sounds
nothing for the brain
it's none of your business, brain
like I said, we don't exist like we thought
Here today, gone tomorrow, remember?
I'm not convinced, just as the cloud passes by
BLOG & MUSINGS BY MURIEL SHICKMAN