From my window-seat, I see the landscape fly,
forms pass, but who is moving –
the traveller within the shell of motion
or the shifting world beyond?
I occupy an ever-moving stance
down the winding spiral’s arm.
Sometimes, the frontier between
here and the emptiness beyond is blurred.
At times a haze obscures the crystal view
I thought to shelter me, a world serene;
instead the mind is played by scenes
before and after the immediate.
The fleeting netherworld reveals itself
but for the barest breath;
the path is tangled and obscure,
a ghostly shell of the corporeal.
Strange images assail my eyes –
familiar recollections from my past
or future that has yet to be,
these thoughts unwillingly bestir my dreams.