The low-bass rumble of a thrown voice, Cast from a distant world, Echoed through my shaman-sleep; Oxygen starved cave-dots to join Through black tunnels of light years, Where transformed I stood, On a precipice and understood, As a young man (again guided by wonder), The shape-shifting sands of Bayeux. The dunes like clouds shape-changed, The bass-voice vibrated each grain And sometimes slowly then quickly, The starlings as one shifted into wind Swept contours where faces emerged Hauntingly surfacing through sand-graves From the dust-red planet in fits and startled Laughter, then grimacing, frowning yet Always wise and playful with others. I understand head bowed low in Reverence and anticipation of eternal sapience; The creature was all and one and then Nothing retreated but re-surfaced in grains, Sweeping majesty of silver flecks rained Onto the redness and the clouds became real: Here is reality and the unbound genesis of conscience, That just-reach-out-of-reach of the mind's eye, Man has and will always feel if never quite touch. No firework or light-effect but many shades of Silver, red and black, dancing magically with gravity Would like to know the whereabouts but hidden For now until portals open at a sought-after point Of abstraction where life can interface with truth And meaning in a cognitive base-layer of being; Somewhere between a primal misfire and extinction Of the species after fullfilling the satisfactory Act of consuming all and thus being devoured by All. As clouds shifting in the azure scape of meteoric Resplendance, so the dust blown iron-like filings On the heated red lava sands formed first a beast With seven heads and nine tails, to which the beast Then morphed into a maiden of infinite beauty; Beckoning siren-like to her sandman suitor, And then, and only then was I able to speak Unto the vestal phantom in notes of baritone That in turn were elevated to a rich fluid falsetto. And here in the conjoining worlds communicated The sexless, godless and fearless, for no ego could Thrive in that hostile yet heaven-like environment; Whether real or unreal is of little concern when The enlightenment of work balanced with philosophy Is finally realised and life reaches a new milestone; Fear not the beast or the vestal temptress for one is the Fire and one the attendant to the Hearth and as with Light and dark there are only forgotten primaries inbetween. And so the precipice became a magna-alloy frame where I stood over-hanging the mighty chasm of fire and meteors, Hands tightly fixed to the rails, the bridge would never be Extended for there was really nothing on the other side. So glad we had our meeting and hope to return one day, Maybe after life to speak in thunder tones like the one Who cannot be the one spoke to me on that fateful night, When starlings converge there is only one, though the clouds Break up and dissipate, the cycle of precipitation continues.