Mental Leap

I apologize for my sleepy eyes
Filled with sand and other heavy things:
The blue with black shadows,
The bland default screen,
All of which are irrelevant
To the truly important things.

I hope this is not
A degradation in quality
Due to happiness embodied
Months before the fall.
With a mind rearranged
To serve an alternate current,
The circuits are bent
And I'm just trying to make sense.

May this not be a procession
For the recession of sorrowed seas
As slowly,
One by one,
Fall the leaves off of trees
Until they are naked like the page
Made of them, once good age.
May this not be the next step
When paper turns to mulch,
And ink becomes unsafe
And a hazard to be kept.

Here comes the chorus
And the orchestra in bloom,
With the boom of tympani drums
And my thumb in my mouth
And my feelings going south
To make room for more...

And the reprise swept the sea far onto the shore.