Mirror of the Mind
To combat the tyranny of time I look
in the mirror of my mind for reflections from my past. It is a temporary rejuvenation of an
important time in the phantom years of long ago. The power of the sleepless mind fascinates me with an unholy
awe. The mind that holds the known and
unknown stars, color of clouds and
green moss, sounds of talk, bird and animal calls, the smell of weather and clothes, taste of brown bread, coffee and savory meals, the touch of sun on my hair, and the feeling of cold on my hands. Forces that by the chemistry of thought can
fuse from these a new, more shining thing,
and in one corner of the mind, where the echo cries out a memory of the
past, like a spider it crouches in the
gray web of time, and draws out of its belly the spectral threads of recreated
life. A kaleidoscope of moving madness,
bewitched and haunted by troubled spirits,
vaguer than the mist that hides in the brain’s deep crevices, crawl out
during sleep to supplant the inner eyes and become more real than wakened vision, is the strange inhibited world of dreams.
Lance
Martin