Can I really claim this mind? This matted den I call it mine. But why? When deep inside, great tunnels bend to hide the truth from Ego's eyes. Now A restless cell divides It ends, yet multiplies! Thus the many-mirrored Mother in disjunction never dies. I am one and I am many, in an endless string of lives! And so the chambers deep within me reconnect and ramify. (Such sewers -- ugh! How Freud abhorred 'em. Dr. Jung at least explored 'em...) A light! Yet even here it shines. Who would have guessed, in waking grayness That there was another side to this milky maze of drainage with which each of us is mined? There it dances on the edge, at the lip of sagging matter Lighting up a land we've left behind. And our body is the shadow it defines. These dark waters running, surging Passing boulders, cliffs of stone Through valleys rank with centaurs sunning, Forests sweetly overgrown with vines At last In moonlight full emerging, The stream another million finds In the Dreamtime all converging -- O star-seared sea! O endless Mind!