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Eureka Moments

Gloves affixed to hands that once
trembled as it approached the breast of life.
Colours on mirrors until they reflect
the view of high windows
peering down with Merlin eyes
at disembodied puppets
that flay with happy barking dogs
affirming kinship and the soul of real life.

What is that leap upwards into the dull stoned tower or the bungeeless jump to meet the odour of the ground and to be a witness to one's own martyrdom?

Why, it is the trick of an unconscious ingenuity,
a harmonization of truths,
but not all truths,
that are heard by rhythms:
a realigning of the psychic cosmos
when two forces play together
to the tune of an idea.
One needs stupidity or lies: either will do.