Nurtured by experience,
the self flowers and flows
in fluvial dreams.

Watered in the mind’s expanse,
the self swells
with sensual surprise.

Feeding on earthy riches,
the self rises
to taste fresh realms.

Lapping up ecstatic tears,
the self swims
in love’s deep sea.

Stilled by waves of wonder,
the self crests
buoyant depths.



Filed under Philosophy, Poetry, Thoughts, Travel

2 responses to “Afloat

  1. There is a quaint, shaman-like vibe in the use of the phrase “the self”, in this context, like an out-of-body experience, and there is a lingering question–or parallel meaning–on weather the nature metaphors are merely the disembodied spirit’s language, or if said spirit has actually been disembodied outdoors in a serene, bucolic place.

    Your poem sings. 🙂 Childhood memories of listening to Disney’s Pocahontas sing “Colors of the Wind” comes to mind.

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