Imagination
most of my life
has been lived
in beatitude,
punctuated by moments
of pungent sorrow.
some
have seen me submerged
to the neck in water –
hands frantically waving.
and tomorrow?
at a languorous pace,
Miles Davis’s
In a Silent Way creates
an aural atmosphere
where bubbles rise
to the top
of my golden glass
of al-kohl.
i have paused
from Spring and All.
only through imagination
are all things possible.
i reimagine
before the egg
a sperm swimming
and before that
a lustful thought
granted form.
then who fought
for my existence,
saying: SO BE IT.
and I was?
Read Another Poem by Skendong: Ode to Death: Life, Faith, and Earthbound Ends