Between Worlds

There's an annoying —
Sometimes not-so-annoying —
Tendency you begin to notice
Both in you
And in others

That mind — both theirs and yours —
Is single-tracked

And whenever thought begins
From any terrain or domain
It meander through
And arrives at the same
Inexorable end

Even before a thought begins
Even when you think
That you need to think
You already know —
It’s been that way so long, so consistently —
That there’s nowhere else
Thought would go

Yet, what else is there to do
You go through the process anyway —
Just like now

The point is not to arrive
The point is meandering

And for others —
Almost always —
Each one —

Maybe not children
Or young adults
With thoughts like foam —
Light, dissolving

But almost everyone else —
As soon as you hear them speak
You can see
A thought meandering
And it meanders more
And then —
It turns outwards
Against another

Like a tyrant king
Who keeps beheading
His tailor —
Displeased with his reflection
In the garments offered

Fault-finding
Something or other
Becomes another’s fault
A flaw or failure
Happened because of another

And another must change
Take responsibility
So I feel at ease

There’s always something wrong
Out there —
That’s thought
Turned outwards

But of course —
That’s merely thought
Meandering

And in a mind like an ocean
It appears like a razor-thin line
Like the fin of a big fish
Slicing the water’s surface
Zipping —

Suddenly — like a dolphin, whole —
Bursting from the surface
Rising
Unbound and free
From the deep

Exposed —
Then, in an instant
Gone

Back down — deep
In the ocean
Nowhere to be seen
On the surface

And you know that —
Like an infinite number of fish
And other creatures in the ocean —
Thought rises
From deep within
Where it is but
A form — of the ocean
Forming and dissolving
As dreams do
In the night

And you wonder —
What of those
Whose thoughts cling
To other thoughts
What are they but

Territories of fish
Colonies
Of shrimps
Octopuses —

Each claiming corners —
Their plankton, reefs
Deep below —
Imagining themselves

Empires
Countries
Tribes and cultures
Families
Workers

Living the whole human drama
From birth to death
Deep in the sea —
Never surfacing

To peer out
To see, for an instant
The vastness and depth
Of the world beyond

But again
You wonder
What’s the point of glimpsing
The vastness above —
Seeing the sky, the stars
Breathing in air —
When your whole life
Is lived below

And one way or the other —
Whatever stories anyone tells —
There’s but the ocean

Whatever kingdoms each one builds
Whatever communities
And make-believe relations
Anyone imagines —
Is but terror

Of there being
No ocean beyond

What else could it be

What is it to leave a territory —
Like a tree
Severing its roots
Off the ground and going walking

What would it do
Cut off from the ground —
Where would it go
Wherever it does
It would but land
On the ground

Only now
Unable forever
To root again

And perhaps
That’s the terror
That keeps everyone meandering
Their familiar grounds

But you —
Unrooted —
Drift
Wherever the wind goes

Or you may seem
Once again down in the depths —
Among others —
Your own kind
In every way and form

Your world lit
With artificial light —
Electricity tracing
Make-believe territories
Everyone’s anchored to

And you —
Cannot forget —
The sight of the sun

And like a cork
A single-tracked thought
Keeps popping up
To the surface again —
At the threshold
Between two worlds

And what do you tell
About the world beyond
The surface
To those beneath — in the depths

What did you see
Nothing — that was below

What do you —
Can you even speak
About nothing
Could you even see nothing
Without the shape
Of water around you

And what’s the point of speaking
When you’re still swimming —
Like all the rest —
In the same waters