think about this:

let's say everything you touched became something other than what it was. metaphors for everything: hair turns to cotton, skin is silk, rain is air, smiles become sunrays studded with jewels.

you get the picture.

the beauty in everything becomes painfully obvious...it has a presence, an aura, that you can't shake. lifeforce becomes something you can touch, manipulate, ease yourself into. almost anything is open for understanding.

senses are dulled & heightened at the same time...you can see and hear far better than you did yesterday, but you may not want to eat.

and in the midst of all this you feel like you're been rocking in a universal cradle; the world around you is kind of dim...like looking thru a frosted glass. you're safe in your nursery. something in the rhythm of the earth soothes you.

that's pretty much where i've been for the past week or so.

i know this is the place where the poetry comes from...among other things. but i never--well, in the last few years anyway--stay in this state for more than a day or two.

i refuse to do anything to snap myself out of it...i suppose out of some protest against the banality of having to see the world "normally" 95% of the time.

i know a way out. and sometimes you don't want--or need--to go back in.