Enter inside the bare wallwhere the white room swallows shadows.
Close the file of your past
roll fast forwardly into the mist,
wait until it clears,
fade into the shade of trees.
Now, some long forgotten love
has fallen from your thoughts.
Ignore heartache - read Blake:
imagine, imagination is not a state
it is human existence itself.
Open your hands like a sail
let the breeze push you forward;
grit your teeth, the somersault complete.
Orchestrate your singing with birds,
do not be afraid to flirt.
Jot down the music in your brain
and juggle with the notes;
dance, twirl like a whirlwind,
spinning, pirouetting.
In the quiet you can blink back
your tears, hear yourself think.
Become a Buddhist, cultivate Chinese cactus
beat a rhythm on an African drum,
tam tira tam tam tam, tira tam tam tam ...
let your hands compose jungle sounds,
until the damping dew is dry
and stormy communications cease,
so again you can enjoy
the sea sniffing shores.
Now your love will not need your riches,
or the radiance in precious stones.