mark elliott driver

Drifting, the soft waters of time,

the whole world resides down below.

The struggle, the fighting with shadows,

the ego it paddles on the fine surface.

Don’t spare me my struggles, deprive me of pain

nor keep me from sinking..

– may I resist the temptation to be good.

Dark waters, coming up slowly,

help me surrender, let them engulf me.

All of the struggles playing with phantoms,

hailing the doldrums, indulging the senses.

Here, only here will be my redemption,

fully receptive to all i’ve been missing.

Eyes turning black I go into my darkness,

time slips through my fingers like sand.

Deep underground in this volcanic landscape,

there’s 80 degree sulphur, my beautiful death

full of high-mountain colours.

Here my reminder, through grip of implication,

each act weaves us into the landscape.

Talking so slowly with cut glass inflection,

please give me truth and be gone.