Outward from the shore I move
pursuing the perfect wave;
mounting the wave crest,
I ride a particle of creation.
The crest of another wave breaks
against my concentration,
and sends my thoughts spiraling
into an ocean of colors.
Reflected by the white light of spirituality
and absorbed by the black light of corporeality,
I descend into a whirlpool of matter,
into a vortex of spinning opposites.
A maelstrom of stark contrasts
carries me toward a distant spiral of light-darkness;
carries me past alternating sections
of white and black light.
I am carried backwards
to the moment of conception,
and forward
to the instant of transcension1.
Line Count: 20
Form: Free style quatrain stanzas with a random rhyme scheme and no specific syllable count.
Footnotes 1 Refers the separation of the soul from the physical body when the body dies.
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