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Who did we think we are?

Did we happen to surrender
small chunks of earth we claimed
as our own for a musical pathway to the stars?
Did prayer flags unfurl our camel's survival
in that lonely oasis of our vampire eyes,
why did no one meet us
with the rising sun?

Where were all the unopened doors?

Recumbent roads converge in origami folds,
I hold one end, you hold the other;
we consume the conscience of precision
like cornflakes in breakfast bowls,
the sphinx is a road not taken
in the aubergine twilight.
If you find yourself in heaven
with both feet on the ground,
come back and tell me how you got there,
don't let me weave in and out blindfolded,
don't let the division bell ring.

Last few words: 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KrjZ_Egjst8 1.06.32
Editing stage: 

Comments

we consume the conscience of precision
like cornflakes in breakfast bowls,
the sphinx is a road not taken
in the aubergine twilight.

Anna

The sphinx is a road not taken in the aubergine twilight.
Who do we think we are?

One only needs to ask theirself this question to take a look inside oneself to come up with their answers. Some folk can not do this while others try to prove it. It appears to be unknown to some of us.

I like your thoughts on this poem Anna. Good food for thought.

Love to you and Barry

Ms Mona

I forgot to add I read one of the many links you give us here and wanted to share the quote on the bottom of Merwin's page. I like this poets work as well and his mighty words of wisdom and nature.
Thanks for sharing the links Anna Bella:)

“The intentions of Merwin’s poetry are as broad as the biosphere yet as intimate as a whisper. He conveys in the sweet simplicity of grounded language a sense of the self where it belongs, floating between heaven, earth, and the underground.”

— The Atlantic Monthly

Sweet simplicity of grounded language... Magic sighs..

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