I wake up in the morning not expecting.
I sleep at night not expecting.
Yet the universe knows me best,
and wants me to have a great rest.
A fractal flower on a broken embankment,
yellow and white leaves fallen to the wind,
a cantankerous journey back into the abstract,
it all shapes and forms in this space outback,
no light nor sound,
sight nor feeling,
love nor hate,
an endless machine churning out a great hallucination.
I was a child until I was adult,
a blind man until I saw the light,
hated and feared until everybody endeared,
hurtled from that comfort,
and growing inside out,
waiting patiently for my destiny.