Preconcious
Man has life like a span of time
Rather than pulse and blood and breath
The magical psyche has a hole inside
Where the spatialization of time can abide
Metaphor me and analogue I
Grieve for the loss of Mycanae
Where the god-like race of hero-men
Lived without time or law to obey
Frenzied sybyls at the omphalos
These poets, the last of the nabium
Babbling and nabaing, chanting ghosts
Center of earth and the conciousness' rim
Not, imagining but experiencing the muse
The Muses babels unwearying flows
Daughter of Mnemosyne, to ruse
Before the budding memory rose
Conciousnesss thus memory thus guilt and remorse
The holes just a space to move around and trace
The hole in the pysche where time runs its course
Past Present and future establishing place
Metaphor me and Analogue I
Grieve for the loss of Mycaene
Where the god-like race of men
Lived without time or law to obey
poem by Barbara Hilal
Added by Poetry Lover
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