Classic Poem

MIRROR 3

Once I was sitting on the right hand side of god in Paradise,
in repartee as witty as a drone's wing is long!
that's utterly ridiculous

unaware that the light plays tricks on the retina
I follow the white light until
I pitch headlong into this sewage ditch; a mirror of clay,

with my head buried and my beak stuck in the field of this heart of clay
even when I get to the point where I'm not afraid of filthier things
the mind-body will only change

playing with my emotions this way as if you're out of your mind,
when it's contagious, this melancholy mirror 3,
it's perilous since there's a chance I'll lose it again

I'm on the road home, then,
I wonder, did I forget my lamp?