A Sunday Poem

The whirlwinds and eddys pool at your feet

Gather at the edges of your garments

Staring into your abyss

With longing

With longing

Eyes adrift of any but home

Home where I am

Home where I am

Do you see the madmen run

The madmen who have

Thrown off their garments

Their allusions of success

Fancy words and formal dress

Drenched in bliss

Wearing only Love’s mist

Running free through the streets

Their Divine Self, unencumbered

Proprietary works canned and outnumbered

Shackleless beings of wonder

They call you from your slumber

And dance to the sound of invisible rain

Life, alive unbound and unchained

Free from the illusory world

of the never-sane

Here is where we play

And we play

And we play

Come home

Stay