By some cosmic chance you look up,
Interrupted from your effervescent meadow,
A ghastly cliff towers beside you,
And then you see them all around you,
You were in a treacherous waste-land.
You look down,
But you see something else this time,
Blooming fields and meandering river-ways,
Peace and quite, pleasant sun-rays.
Uncertain of the reality of things, but still
Deciding to stay on top of things,
You continue to entertain this reality,
Poking around, prodding along.
You fathom it, you reason it,
Hence it must exist.
Back you go into your effervescent meadow,
Unaware that your abrupt cosmic thinking
Was etched long ago
In the timeless cosmic meadow.
Blotted Slurs 