Read My Book Piecemeal

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Reality, the fertile soil in which ideas
and dreams can bloom, I need reality
as background, framework and structure
within which to live while reading my book
thinking my thoughts, investigating feelings

Without reality punctuating my reflective mood
of continuous contemplation, I run the full gamut
of events without pausing to savour and reflect, but
it is better to read my book piecemeal, a sentence
here, a page or two in a fast-food restaurant

Three pages before going sleep; when translating
researching terms, taking my wooden dolls from the
drawer – I could not let them languish there so they
were given place on the hat-stand bulging beyond
control with flowers and leaves and dolls

Even a little snake to round off the whole – I pick up my
book when going out in the passage, when a waitress
asked You are always on the go, so energetic, how do
you do that? I laughed because I am running to get to
the next stop where I can sit down and read

But reading non-stop until the book is finished with no
pressing duties to make time for reflection, does not
work so well, emotions are squashed in information
overflow, I prefer thinking about Eckankar before
making comments, while enfolding myself

In the pretend games of a book heroine, adventures
and tribulations of a young protagonist is the only
successful antidote to the religious and spiritual
prophets I enjoy reading, I need a young mind
to keep me strong when Twitchell requires

Abstention from passion; when Hal Lindsey
predicts Apocalyptic doom…
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