Like a pumpkin I cut open the top of my skull
My hand along with giant spoons
scoop the seeds, the guts, and the goo.
Now empty and void of all thoughts
I place a small unscented tea light
candle at the bottom, its base.
Lying down on a soft surface
My eyes close; the heaviness of their lids
provide the protective shield from the
mundane sights of the world around me.
Tension inside my shoulders, my thighs
relax and sink more deeply into comfort.
My breathing begins to slow
becoming more rhythmic, gentle, soothing
the way the breath of life should be.
Inside the newly carved cavern
the oxygen helps to ignite a small
flame on the wick of the candle.
The flame flickers to life
blue, orange, red and yellow
begin their tantalizing dance
casting shadows of a dream against
the walls scraped and smooth.
Good, bad, or indifferent
the shadows' dance is a soft luxury
a quiet escape from the normal
monotony of usual thought.
To stay here forever, in the simple
relaxation and sweet distraction
from the world would be
a perceived blessing.
Like the pumpkin, however,
no small candle can replace all that
was removed. The seeds of
thought are the elixir of life
without which we wither and rot.
Alas, one must awaken back into
the world; if one desires to truly live.
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