Oh, Great Onion of the Shifting Sands,
just as you suggested
I have traveled far and wide,
explored many levels of thinking,
pealed the tarnished and bruised layers of
self awareness to reveal hidden terraces of more.
I have meditated.
I have looked within.
I have hunkered down deep.
But now I am so confused.
In here, inside this body that should be
a simplified and more svelte me,
I am finding layers that go on endlessly,
abstract forms which are difficult to grasp,
and fields of thoughtful sorrow much broader in scope
than ever I had imagined before.
Oh, Great One, I am finding I am not an onion after all.
I am a veritable ballroom of tearful chance.
Then dance, Little Wet One, dance.
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