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PostPosted: Sat Feb 27, 2016 8:01 pm 

Joined: Thu Feb 26, 2009 2:56 am
Posts: 297
The Bardo of a Dead Artist


As I was falling asleep
last night
i was dreaming
I was flying
way out there
in the dark
seems like I was
a point of light
in the middle of nowhere
many things
come and go
through my mind
but none stronger
than the music
that flows and flies
and lives within me
even as I count the seconds
before memory disappears
and I fly
or cease to fly
one never knows the difference
but in the middle of that
sleepy refrain
body ...
that won't move
... you can still
hear something
a flow of notes
and strings
and sounds
that lives, and
passes me by
as I close my eyes
to just enjoy
and appreciate
even if only for a few seconds
that heavenly sound
of something
that has been called music
but in many ways
it isn't
it's a life force
a life giving stream
of a healthy energy
that lives
within you
or you might not feel it
or ever see it
or worse
ever hear it.

As I fell asleep,
I could easily count
the steps
the doors
the many ideas
and visions
of an endless
I call it music
something that has
and it takes you
right here
a feeling of
a child's airplane
but in those moments
when the note stretches
and turns
and flies
ever harder
closer to that other light
you see yourself
feeling like
you want to leave
and live
where the music is
and we are not
we want to be
one with it
we want to
how can I describe
that you can't see
that takes me
every day
from here
to a land
that sound
and feeling
and feel
is sacred
as I fall asleep
not even sure
if I will wake up
the next time or not
and create
another poem
another recitation
of an inner life
that so often is denied me
because of fame
because of ...
doesn't matter
the music
is my clothing
my mind
and my soul
let it take me
it needs to
words have no meaning
ideas and thoughts even less
as I live through
one more night
passing into sleep
hearing that heavenly sound
of the spheres
... with all its colors,
lights, or darkness,
and movement
I can only call it flying
as I pass by
many thoughts
many feelings
all of them
so unimportant now
since the music
is all there is
that drives me
and takes me
into that moment
when I have closed my eyes
and I no longer see anything
or remember anything
in the middle of nowhere
right here
at the same time
as I close my eyes
hearing one last refrain
and remember ... nothing

Pedro Sena (c) 2016 Printed with Permission

(Pts 2-9 still to come! but will be published in the Ygdrasil Journal of Poetic Arts only, for now)(This set of poems is dedicated STRICTLY to the music of Tangerine Dream from day 1)


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