The Other Side of The Bubble

In the world like a bubble
In the world you don’t see here’s the bubble
You’re in, you’re curled

No, not the social whirl, though the social whirl’s
A bubble
A container framing trouble among the merry muddle
Hustling grandiose bustle

There is with nature and the leaves of greening trees
With the breeze and scents of flowers – incline
To be – be being again
A creature

Answer informs the bubble, the bubble of the sense
Here cluster gallimaufries worlds invent
And we a native unremarkable phenomenon
Our regimen
Issues to sue
To tell us we’re just here, and no big brisk to-do
Not overwhelming, not a situation
No sacred revelation

A place one could not dream of
Or make up
And root of all our fruits of art and pomegranates
Knowledge, and acumen, gets vacuumed up
From all around us by us; abounds, as vitalises
On something grander, shapelier; perhaps a valency
Is promulgated

And this whole thing, in its continuing,
No bubble
In itself
But fecund wealth of everything – invention overclocked
Abundance is declared upon a full-stack crop
One can just go round and round and be still counting
Outcomes will never stop
And new things are, arise, amaze, surprise
Gifts lifted by us, superscribed upon us

And pop!
The bubble trembles, bursts and here’s the shock
That here mobs such a rummage sale of proper dreams
For real, the deal; the fact in-being hits you
Upon the brain
That it’s not one more everyday relation
That here there’s such an overflowing altercation
Of inexplicables, of wondrous out of sight
Beyond a shuffled huddle, muddling-by to curb the fright
Which bites, disturbs, the damp-course of clay clods
Enfolds familiarities, and on the sense they clog
Going not beyond fixated states acclimatised
On which assurance rests, attests, as if old vests
Our breasts
Supportive of a moonshine malt complacency
By gratefully delivering life distractions
Diversions in old furrows

Instead work on the whys, the wherefores, whacky wows with wonder
In fullest entourage
And go – get-going!

Go! go! Know this that everywhere is glory blinding
There’s just – just here, there – everything!
And every person’s portioned a delirious song
Above the heavens and spheres; is thereto sung upon
Some style where earthly tears and wear of dreary years
Are all handled, washed and dried.

Under a noble sky
And without parallel in human interface
Grope comprehension, there it is
A signet lifeline we are born with and it grows
Among us to be fathomed under nose
To be our portion, never bother why;
And high
Beyond what think ourselves, to know some pretty whit about,
Let you go ply
Dry pages – you will never get it by; don’t try;
An atom in your hand or wild flower
Grasped intellectually?

Here is direct extension to the stars
To a universe of outer-being unsurpassed
Yet we ourselves aim, press ahead beyond resource
Letting this sane trajectory go pass,
But majesty presents it obviously
To show before us, and knows us, what we are,
Who would be fooled instead
Protecting on securement under a lower bar
Of hard preventions; to set ourselves so highly
That for our kind we’d want to claim it all.

Discover; awaken; take a taster; realise,
And then another, do it; realise.

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