Kill me now lest I dream to deep
or to fast that I am swallowed
by all that is and was.
While chasing the white stag,
the trees melt and seas boil
the world seems repugnant.
From the land of frozen
lips become black and blue
with stiff movements of uncertainty.
From the land of the scorching,
the heart melts and explodes
while the minds discovers phantasmagoria.
And within the realm of copse,
the mind discovers the unearthing,
and there is silence on the lips.
Oh where oh where have I gone,
where is this stag and feast
taken me that I am a stranger?
Within this flow of possibilities,
a sea full of obscurity and absurdity,
there is a stranger staring back at me.
This deals a bit with the spiritual journey of my life somewhat I dunno, it just came to me just now and had to write it. There was some editing involved, though I have not found a replacement for the word while which appears often within this. There is a lot of Celtic imagery because I am heavily influenced my Celtic Irish origins.