Box in a Cyclone

I want to lay supine against the grass

The blades tickling my face

And reach my arm up to the sky

My arm like a tree

Would grow

Stretch upwards

Without a child’s growing pains

My arm would be a pole of flesh

Reaching up

I could pet the clouds

Hold an eagle on my wrist

Brush against the leaves of the tallest canopies

Snap my fingers miles apart

In the air above me

While staying put soundly

On the tickling green blades of grass

I do not want to take my other senses along

I am blind on my journey

Only through touch can I explore

I knock on the door to the ozone

Waiting for God to hear

For Him to let my arm in

Through the thin, ethereal layer

My arm goes from the sweet light blue skies

To the dark, reflective night

I’ll touch the stars

Feel their scintillating shock

I’ll play catch with holdable planets

I’ll graze through the sun

Collecting trinkets from worlds unknown

And giving them to you

I want to be you

Just for a moment

To see how I look

To you

When I give you the world

I want to be a master of time

Given the power to

With the blink of an eye

Stop time for just one moment

Everyone, everything

Stuck in time

Molded like ice

So I being your spirit

And you being my command

Could at last

Be one

I want this time of sheer power

To never end

Everything still

Everything just

I want to lay forever

On the green lever to start time back

You and I

Can live in the now forever

I don’t want

To travel to the past

Taste the wines of nineteenth century France

Fight the Visigoth with brave warriors

I don’t want

To be in the future

See technology brighter than the stars

Shake hands with the final president

I want you and me

To be one

In a fictional land of one tactile sense

With our other senses in reality