Imagine you can see someone.
He's looking into the clear distance.
Watching over green hills dotted with fauna,
translucent rivers flowing between them,
almost tasting the cool water on my lips
and stark mountains, still cloaked with white robes
from an earlier season.
An ever changing landscape,
sometimes bursting with life,
sometimes almost void of life,
changing with the seasons.
Erosion and construction in a constant cycle.
Never ending, sometimes surprising,
capturing its own fascination.


He has a pensive stare, not really seeing the view,
just able to sense and be part of it.
Knowing that it cannot be fully explored.
Ultimately it is unknowable because it defies logic.
Not quite being part of this world is known,
escape to another is possible.
Inside to another place, yet outside to be free.
An endless space, waiting to be filled, constantly expanding.
Flight through here is easy, will power is enough.
Senses straining as the speed increases,
through the fabric of memory.
Never misplacing or loosing information,
just separating by distance and time.


The mountains and rivers are the surface of my mind,
always changing reflecting the cycle.
To exist in this world is what most people see.
To be me, to be alive,
I live in the other world,
the logical utopia,
where order and chaos are bound.
Then why the pensive look you may ask?
I realize I need both worlds to be whole,
without each other I would collapse.
This I see while listening the to musical sigh
of the wind in my mind from the mountains.

(c) 3rd October 1998 17:16, Fnagaton.