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A drop of water slid slowly down a perfectly formed leaf,

A millisecond cut up and extended out,

Sun reflecting on this rounded muse of liquid life,

I see myself stare in awe,

And here comes more - the sky above extends,

The forest's gazes up,

This timeless cycle condenses again.

I am here, a kindness lets me swipe my memory,

Soak it all up,

Zoom into crystal floor of the solvent sweet with millions of colourful hues,

That let life swim and spread, dissolve our soup, let particles evolve,

Draws analogy which the latest branches can stand and weep,

Let ideas float above,

Invent a god and his words,

Stories to cling to, poems to recant,

Tie our ancestors to an otherwise haggard self,

Preserve our beast, let it play,

Without control, untamed pure aggression gives perfect kindness joy.

Apparently, or so it seemed,

We were happier in distant times,

This modern angst a party poo'd.

The matrix is uncoupled,

We must fill gaps, cement the cracks, bury hacks,

The words can be so helpless against the physical camp,

The weather untamed progress stewed, hubris of dreamers swallow recompense.

Yet up there our captains extend the drama,

Set the goals, provoke all systems,

The snakes tongue, the chimps lungs, and the shine on the golden set of rules,

The Glass Bead Game in all its hues,

This monastic dream will pilot streams of carriers,

Aircraft strewn with colours that reflect,

A chance for makers, from this generation of forgotten stew,

The historians will seek solace in their contention,

That this has happened before a thousand times,

Just like all the academics and their pigeon boxes,

Of relentless exponential finality,

Obsessive compulsion - the mantra of the Kung Fu warriors of pseudo-democratic servitude.

But so quickly the sparkle of Nature's beauty is tainted,

The innocence lost, social fear and our lot creep back,

As the drop falls so the memory lost,

The ecstatic membrane lost to a kick in the teeth,

Here again comes the ape-like warrior call,

To let hormones wreak havoc on crystal order,

Despite the computational transforms built in,

My brain cannot hold more templates,

The model replete, the goggles never gaze on chaos,

Without falling from grace.

So I reject splendour and early hubris,

Fall to god and my earthly morality,

Even on progression I get the kick,

Blaze with my fellow zombies in our domestic bliss,

We make our boxes houses,

Our transforms habits, our clothes glow sweet promise.

If memory of that drop falling appears in our dreams,

We blank it out with Holy TV and noise of every dimensional twist,

This certitude, social bliss, this is human in all its remiss,

Together we act play and strum,

Together we smile with a little irony perhaps.

Now twenty years on,

My guts twisted, my brain cramped,

My heart rendered, lungs poisoned, words broken,

I feel insane, lost and in want of retribution,

I want to see the squalour, bask in retreat,

Pickle myself in wine like a teenage knife cuts,

Enact my rage on all I have lost.

This god let me down, this childish trust,

The historians' lie,

The academic toys I lost when I gave up the courage,

Let hopeless others draw my path,

Let their gods release me from birth.

But now I must kill, reap my revenge,

Seek retribution on the things that I hate,

I must spit gargled phlegm deep from my infected lungs,

Collapse in sleep at every chance,

I must eye servitude, stare at her face,

That wrinkled image of those days when The Drop Fell And I Could See Taste.

Now dead, I died with the lust I killed,

I even wonder if the sky opened at all,

Those many years ago,

I lie in wait for nihilism to take me,

I gave upfaith I lieft completness for what?

Everything is an unanswered question

I do not care.

Collapsed and numb

I wonder out

In madness I leave

And arrive then lay down

The distant sound of a trickle

Enters thoughts, faint wondering of nature reliquishes anew,

Cold and wet

I open my eyes

A body bathed in blood,

Sputem spurned by guts

Hair bedraggled in tainted love

I lick my dry mouth, thirst rides my thoughts

A radicle permission overrides my slumber

I look up and see verdant splendour and blue sky

The water trickles down, the clouds seep above,

Nature again lights up,

But I cannot connect the dots

I am not sure this matters

I drove so far

Is there anything to comprehend, is there a point?

And then I see, for a millisecond at least,

That innocence is not bliss,

To be blind is not grace,

But leae your senses

Crash your connections,

Is to forget

That tranquil moment of bliss,

Time when the brain was divided into warring systems.