In My Whole

In my whole – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

There are those times,
though fewer than I’d like,
when I ride the thermals to me,
a flight beyond fancy,
wherever that may be and,
to ensconce
in the luxury of my inner world
a vast continent of view
to feel,
to chew,
the thoughts that are so delicious,
to tease the obtuse
and the ever beyond so hard to apprehend
to touch the daily with delight
taking time to reflect
where the jingle jangle is so without
and I am so within
feeling prescient,
whole,
inexplicably content,
an infinity,
floating,
above these tufts of merengue,
sitting in my old friend
the tree of life as wisdom tree
looking,
seeing,
a wisdom so inarticulate,
other than to say,
I am me,
and here I am,
contentedly content,
in my whole.