uploaded Oct. 3, 2012.
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by Harlan Richards
I am transported, like
Cap'n Kirk, when he says
beam me up Scottie,
to a higher level
as far beyond mire of my life
as Matterhorn over valley below
where, no longer,
must I muddle through muck.
Soaring on gossamer wings, released,
rejoicing like a newborn fawn,
capering across meadows, unaware
of wolf packs lurking in shadows.
I reach across eons of time
and space, to pull others into my
alternate reality; yet ever alone,
visionary, hawk-eyed, seeing
others still groping blindly
mired in antiquity.
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