Don't Let It Be

Am I right to be thrown upon the world with unraveling eyes?
Is this not a dream?
The sun seems to agree
it plays with the hair of those
in front of me,
it shelters the flowers
from rainbows of terror
and blesses the godless
with scenes of nature
that test the obscenities
of future memories
and past deja vu's.

Have I not slipped into the telepathy
of bland poets and equally bland painters?
The moon seems to agree
it shares a multidimensional grin
then drops mind altering bombs
on the demons of hysteria that
roam carelessly through
the crossroads,
from this world
to the next,
cruel is the stomach
of the beast that I lay in
with stars of darkness
lightning the tunnels
and words of dead men
lingering in my head,
Are the sidewalks of night
not the bridges of death?

Has life not been reborn a million times before?
I can't help but agree,
in small moment's where all
life seemed to lack destiny
and death seemed to be a paradise
of blood covered ballerinas
on the verge of enlightenment,
I stepped through a door
which was always there,
a door which yielded
to the balanced dance of perception
that once again forced me into
the blatant endlessness of my
own reflection.