"the dancing shadows"

i welcome the delusions' arrival --
they may not be fought:
the more you resist, the more
they erode the edges
of your mind,
those precious precipices.
so i welcome them.

(Pilate's wife preaching   at me,
 while i carefully unbind
      Leaves of Grass
 and plant the folded pages
                         in her garden.)

my existence
my perception of   self
has been grotesquely magnified:
   i am too much within myself
   i have no thought but
       "thought" itself,
               no feeling but
       "sense" itself.
i AM Thought,
  the feverish kaleidoscopic shifting of
                                       my identity,
                                the mode   of being,
                                          even,
  has burned away all superfluous "personality."
this,
  the torturous opposite of samadhi:
         perfect knowledge    of the Ego Fraud, of maya,
         but the immense
              consuming
           disconnect   with the Real.

meanwhile
  the gentle hum    of angels' voice
  kisses my ringing ears --
    i know they protect me
    as i lay in this bed
    and struggle against the visions
    that threaten to snuff out my breath.

surely i have found that ancient portal,
          visited by prophets alone,
    between our world and
           the Eternal Desert of Good and Evil --
    for in our world,
           there is only        Chance.
    and the prophets,
           returning from that monstrous Desert
                                through the blazing ether,
           are misunderstood
    and the people
           begin to see the dancing shadows
                         of angelic things, demonic
                                                            things
                 coloring the surface of their intentions.