Ah, the folly (part 23)

What the hell was I writing poetry for? Looking at it now I can see what I meant, but I'm also thinking to myself why write when I'm drunk?

The island...still haven't returned yet, but I'm currently contemplating the required movements that will take me there. I need to return as I have some big questions that need even bigger answers. I'm mulling over some fundamental issues and I find myself coming to some uncomfortable conclusions. Whilst the monastery may not - in fact will not - give me the answers I want, the island itself may serve to sharpen my mind and prompt me to face up to some essential and searching meditation.

I tried

A blanket of cloud sits low over town.
Sound is muffled but vaguely present.
Wine in one hand, tobacco in the other,
Stimulants that conversely slow-down and speed-up my perceptions.

Vision rearranges itself into near and far,
Before slowly becoming middle distance.
The periphary fades to dwindling lightness;
Silhouettes gain prominence over the purple city haze.

For the first time in the current daily cycle I find myself truly at peace;
Five minutes of unadulterated singularity and focus.

Now I am back within my domain,
A place of comfort and dominion,
A throne-room ready for the investiture of simplicity,
An environ of free-thinking, free movement and unlimited space.