Mantra is taking us spelunking. Grab a rope, a torch and a buddy.
If we pool them together, do they fit into patterns becoming brighter? Or are they more like glitter, shaken in a tube? Mantra does not think they are either. Instead, she see them as the mineral deposits in a Crystal Cave.
This poem is image heavy. Clear your mind. If you have ever been in a growing cave, you will see these images readily. You may even feel the spattering mist from the drops. You will definitely see the crystals.
A cancer grows within your soul.
It lives in the cave where you let
Your emotions dwell, protected.
In the cool, dark quiet, it grows,
Building stalagmites up to reach
The fertile garden of your brain.
Sparkling crystals shine in moonlight.
They are ideas from the mind spring,
Dripped from stalactites, collected
On the ever growing cave floor.
Thoughts smooth as glass flow over ‘tites
Leaving shiny memory grains.
Each day more of you pours into
The rock garden maze until you
Slip from reality’s firm grasp
With no consciousness left to clasp.
‘Tites and ‘mites meet, touching at last.
The garden became a forest.
You’ve slipped from our world down into
A dream prison which once was you.
The bars all formed with the fragments
Of the dreaming mind gone stagnant.
Emptied of intellect and will,
Siphoned out when you became ill.
Lofty ideals and strong beliefs
Destroyed when there was no relief.
Perhaps, one day science will find
A cure for your unraveled mind.
Until then, we will still mourn you
And those dreams you couldn’t make true.
What makes up the crystals? What cancer causes the mind to stop trying to chase dreams? Are we defined by our ideas? What happens if we hoard all our ideas? What happens to our minds when we stop dreaming?