My secret place began with a big bang, expanding as space divided and multiplied.
Intersections and dark lines forming strange corridors
Watching each mass in flux become its own synaptic map.
Gloomy ghosts of the past intersecting with visions of the present.
Energy always pushing forward constantly rerouting old wiring.
My secret place is a radiating pool reflecting infinity within a cave of glowing moss.
Shallow puddles paint theses surfaces but beneath their glimmering façade
There are endless depths funneling to dimensions beyond my own comprehension
Worlds of what if and why not places where loved ones are never lost just locked away
Saved in an astral plane to be remembered any day I choose.
Emotions are evident through the rocks as they cycle through cliché colors
Red for rage, blue for despair, green for calm, and purple for passion.
Siren songs of yester everything echo through the wet walls
Sounding lamentation and celebrations of every degree
From overjoyed and apathetic to all the shades of agony.
Angels and demons manifest in varying degrees of desire.
Ego and id sipping slime from the pulsing membrane of the cave walls.
Red rocks thumping like an African drums beating to the rhythm of my heart.
For some their sacred secret place is a safe zone but my home is fraught with danger.
There is always ying and yang tit for tat.
Abstract things born to balances great happiness with deep sadness,
So I can appreciate the beauty and irony because security is an illusion and stability is for fools.
My secret place is fluid always adapting to me, a changing sea unencumbered by destiny.
Better than Wonderland worse than Neverland, and almost as sweet as OZ.
I won’t lose my head but I may lose my heart while flying far to slow to start.
All dreams and fantasies rise and fall from within these corridors.
Prison cells of DNA forms certain passageways flaring with neurotransmitters.
My secret place will fall one day receding into the dark shadows of collapsing stars
Be sucked up into the grand void of space and spit out a wasted mass of molecules.
No matter how hard I try to describe this, you will never really know my world.
As I will never live in yours, so I wonder what is your secret space like?
Joshua Graff
***END OF AUGUST 2012 POEMS***
