乘驾象诞生 (A Ride Like Birth)

Enwombed in fluid,
it is amazing that we
find the light a'tall
and each ray
stands remembered.

Each moment of
ray and revelation
stands for something,
whether it be particles
and luck, the way
the sun silhouetted
a body, or the wind
whipping and untangling
your hair.

Memories are built on
the moments that make
the void a shade brighter.
The whole of it is a ride
like birth
with a thrust you only
think you can control,
the tumult spilling into
the next curve
and the next.

Swimming in amniotica
I can not fail.
A gryffin comes in
dreamscape, grins,
and tells me this as
I scrounge for ground
-bound change, falsely
believing that I can buy
a ticket for the next
ride.

Outside the womb,
leaves plummet,
ever-so-softly, while
wind winds through
branches, ever-so-
randomly. My sighting
this only spawns a
smile; thus, I realize
I am alive.

Sometimes, too much so.
At times I chant for chaos
the way yahoos might chant
"Defense" on a late Sunday
afternoon for many
reasons, if only
because the ataxia
will later give me
something to put on paper.