Thought I'd share a poem I wrote when my age was still defined by a -teen and had yet to live two full decades. Why? Because I have been many things, but always me, and because Ken Kesey liked it.
Had to read it a second time, to really savor the imagery. Magical. Captures the numinous energy of a wild midnight party that the day has no idea exists. Like a Midsummer Night's Dream, ruled over by royal fae who disappear laughing into the mists with the rising sun. The only sign that it ever happened the stars spilling from a young lady's hair, their source and significance an unremarked upon mystery to the oblivious daywalkers.
Reminded me of the feeling I had emerging blinking into the light from a warehouse rave, tired and skittery from a night that had seemed to last forever, riding the subway home surrounded by people going to work, who I knew really had no idea.
A flashback from another time
Had to read it a second time, to really savor the imagery. Magical. Captures the numinous energy of a wild midnight party that the day has no idea exists. Like a Midsummer Night's Dream, ruled over by royal fae who disappear laughing into the mists with the rising sun. The only sign that it ever happened the stars spilling from a young lady's hair, their source and significance an unremarked upon mystery to the oblivious daywalkers.
Reminded me of the feeling I had emerging blinking into the light from a warehouse rave, tired and skittery from a night that had seemed to last forever, riding the subway home surrounded by people going to work, who I knew really had no idea.