[Infinitude: beyond perception]

 

They would say,

you have an old soul,

it’s as if you’ve

“been here before”

 

Now I, at that time,

didn’t know exactly

what it is they meant,

at the age of thirteen:

I’ve been here, before.

 

As in time and space;

here in this place,

before in what time?

Is it possible,

just because I was into jazz

when other kids my age were into

Kool Moe Dee

girls,

and dance fads?

In my intellection

My mind would drift on Tranes for Miles,

Ra in the meadows of blue’s Pyramid sand dunes

against sunflowers and moon trees

infused with the quintessence of purpose.

Was this indicative

of a previous existence,

an alien in displace;

one familiar with bending

time and space,

carrying knowledge of things from before

 

my time…

this time…

 

Could I have been here before?

Could I have been movement and repose?

Could we have been here breaking

through sound like bass strings

brushed drums

and piano keys?

 

Let’s say for a moment that we

test the depths of our perception

play fantasy,

make-believe…

that this could be…

 

especially since it’s plausible,

as there is nothing new under the sun;

and because both time and space

occupy the same body

we are

then

and now

here

and there

 

as time that moves in revolution

like evolution, hands in constant movement

hinged upon a single pivot;

our souls reaching across space

searching for matter to materialize ourselves

for new time in new bio-vehicles

trading bodies like cats trading in rides

would cats be like “Yo! I’ll sell you mine

because I’m low on cash;

I can’t afford to occupy

because the mortgage is too damn high.”

&n
bsp;

Are we like homeless searching for homes

searching for new places?

 

could we be…

who we were

before

 

We suns of our fathers

trees seeing new iterations

as mirrors facing themselves

from a single seed

seeking

yet falling…

further inebriated

by the falsity of individuality.

 

Come on we’re still just making-believe

her and I;

were we lovers in a previous time,

lost footprint in the transitions

surfing the waves of time through oceans of space;

 

and maybe it’s what gives context

to the illogical,

love at first sight.

 

See I knew that from the moment I saw her

I would love her from head to soul because we are

pieces of the same love previously displaced;

if this doesn’t make sense—just go with it!

 

Could I honestly tell her

I’m sorry, it took us this long

to rediscover one another;

is it conceivable

that our chemistry

is simply because we

were meant to be, like destiny;

However, broken we are

yet we possess the power

to recreate the pieces that remain…

unaccounted for…

through the exertion of our passion

scions will be created; replacing all the misused

and regretted love left to be distant memories,

and

since it’s all energy

it will return to us in reciprocity

as water to the ocean.

 

this could be poetic philosophy

            even prophecy…

 

and maybe the reason we write poems

is so that we can remember this existence

so that when we come back and read the hieroglyphics

it would make sense why our souls find freedom

in the simple complexity of poetry;

I’m not sure what you believe

nor the extent of your perception…

trust this is no intent to deceive

or change the foundation of your beliefs,

so if you’re still in the frame of making-believe//

and its possible that we’ve been here before;

then trust me when I say that I’ll see you

in the next lifetime…

This old soul.

 

© 2012 Tshombe Sekou

www.tshombeisms.com | @tshombeisms