An exotic energy glides up the spine like an elevator on valium;
it’s a slow-motion champagne bubble destined for the head crown.
Suddenly, whatever was gestating in the lit sphere is released
into the great expansive whatever, before any camera can focus.
All the silent observers rejoice, they happily slap each other
on the back as if they had something to do with this,
which they most certainly did not.
Now we are free, then we were free, then we will be free —
so it’s been said, and who am I to disagree?
Just so, this exotic energy may have a mind of its own,
it doesn’t travel the transcribed paths of nodes
in hierarchical orbiting systems.
No, it goes where attention flows, it becomes a prayer
rising straight to heaven, the same place where we now
abide, the part of us which the sadness can’t reach, where
the raft is abandoned to float downstream, where the music
is playing in the key of serene, where all the ancestors wait
with open arms to welcome us back to our home in the stars.
Ah yes, how inviting it all sounds, except for the fact that
such notions are, more often than not, merely useless baggage
toted around from site to site by those who’d stammer, clueless,
when confronted in a real test of their fraudulent equanimity
by any random twist of fate — a broken toe, a new love
gone sour, or losing their power right before
finding out how the movie ends.