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I have no access to the deep things
Through the hallowed halls of self involvement I wander
Looking for the doorway to long forgotten abandon a place
were pain and joy dance their mad fascination. Aloof, insulated
from their fires I sway lightly caressing their memory. Without touching
their truth, I bask in the radiance of remembrance temperance is my
shield I am warmed but not consumed. Gossamer diaphanous luminaries’
sweet with musical madness their calls from beyond desire to
the mundane sanity so quickly collected in daily
existence, are merely flotsam and jetsam
littering the seascape of the soul.

by auggie my mentor and father