Grayscale

(This was written while I was in college, sans-rhyme, and I revised it at the beginning of 2003, in one of my first efforts to produce audially, aurally pleasing spoken-word material. I like the way it turned out. The subject matter concerns some of my deepest fascinations about meditative, inward-looking self-scrutiny. It had a different title, originally, but Grayscale applies to the revised version here presented.)

I wish I could float down the
Silver kaleidoscopic swirls
That dance on curtains unfurled,
In luminous black membrane shade,
Where Grayscale shapes parade,
And float in atmospheric gray jade
Within the cosmic array of the world.
Midnight pools radiate distortion
& mutate proportion, concentric
Twill snow in wavering shadow caves,
Reflective walls engrave waves
In the smooth muscle of the soul.
The orbs of glowing distraction,
Blanketed with flowing mystery & awe,
Cloaked in the history of mystical progression
& subconscious regression to the eternity
Of ourselves and their liquid shells.
The waves of the black ocean churn & roil,
Rippling outwards, the cloak of the cosmos,
The twist of the spiral, the coil
Of fractalized fabric & glistening darkness,
The undulating grid of primary shades,
The pendulous curving id
And its turbid chaotic masquerades
Flowing in and bursting out
Of the veil of vibrational ascension.
This is the nebulous symphony
of inward teloscopy, soul astronomy,
Reverse inspection of inverse reflection
The scrutiny of dun convection
In the turbulence of the self
And all its murky dimensions.