Deep Every Time

                        Deep Every Time, a Treatise on Transcending the
                       Present-Perfect, An Ideal State


                                       I.
                                       Definition

                             The Present-Perfect is an Ideal State,
                             pure, sublime, not man-made nor made for man;
                             effluvial in Nature, we can't see,
                             itself trapped, lost in a mystery.

                             Via chance, depressants, or stimulants,
                             at times, man elevates to lofty airs;
                             he catches a glimpse sent by the divine,
                             of a foreign world, flawless by design.

                             The Ideal State exists outside of time;
                             in this condition, man is man no more;
                             for the majestic, ethereal plane
                             knows not of time nor of guilt or of shame.

                             A world of chaos with limited rules;
                             the Ideal State is free of all matter;
                             having no properties to recognize,
                             it's every thing yet hidden to our eyes.

                             The Present-Perfect, Cosmos' perfect world;
                             Human Nature, Man's perfect enemy;
                             ceaselessly suffering [in itself] a mystery,
                             man's world is filled with pain and misery.

                             Man's Imagination is essential
                             when he transcends his natural world;
                             the Universe and the Man become one,
                             now part and parcel of a greater sum.

                             
                             Supernatural, divine by design,
                             it is a state that we can't understand;
                             it exists not; so, if man's to be wise,
                             he must see himself behind his own eyes.

                             I've a secret about the Universe;
                             feeling it's greedy to keep it hidden,
                             this 'ol Bard's decided to share with you
                             a prophecy that's absolutely true.

                             With reality left open to close,
                             Man is left to himself to make a choice;
                             the prophecy promises timeless joys,
                             learn'd simply, listening to this voice.



                                           II.
                                         Transcension

                             In the darkness, when I close all my eyes,
                             I can see, shining, a thousand bright stars;
                             my feet are gently resting on a cloud
                             and my head remains buried underground.

                             I remember to breathe, then, to smile;
                             the Ideal State is deep every time;
                             I see the turning, fallen leaves of grass
                             reflecting off the sidewalk's broken glass.

                             Tonight, it's slippery; ice on the streets;
                             I think graffiti; thunder's in my heart;
                             I board an invisible cosmic train
                             and dance a 'lil slow-jive with my brain.

                             On the edge, I get deep every time;
                             in these moments, I can taste my heartbeat;
                             nothing matters when everything's one
                             in the bestowed moments of transcension.

                             
                             The science behind this is based on faith;
                             to the truths at hand, pay close attention;
                             the secret, nay, the key to transcension
                             is universal law through the heavens.

                             Inside floating clouds, sky-bound cumulus,
                             between symbiotic subatomics;
                             we feel, caress our seeking hearts,
                             breaths of eternal deep; transcension starts.

                             The real world disappears fading away;
                             a bridge connects the contrasting Natures;
                             we step slowly from sidewalk to sunbeam
                             and wander between a cloud and a dream.

                             To escape the mortal chains that bind us,
                             Man must Windex his doors of perception;
                             to visualize this great enigma,
                             we let shine our radiant charisma.

                             His secret now shared, the Bard will resign
                             to his ancient, immortal tapestry;
                             you possess the power and energy,
                             the source and the heart, Creativity.



                                             III.
                                       Conclusion

                             We are kept hidden by Human Nature
                             from secrets that constantly surround us;
                             from the darkest depths of lamentation,
                             our souls seek their emancipation.

                             Through silent meditation, we find peace;
                             our minds drift off to a far away place,
                             eternally gnawing on a free high
                             and dancing on thy fearful symmetry.
         
                             
         
                             We are granted moments of perfection,
                             elusive visions of another sphere;
                             when perception becomes reality,
                             we are lost in benign finality.

                             We can put pretty tablets on our tongues,
                             as we taste the sun and then drink the moon;
                             chemical stimulation is one way,
                             to step outside time and escape today.

                             By grasping the world in a grain of sand,
                             or by leaving footprints on the ceiling,
                             or by humbling ourselves and kneeling,
                             we experience that joyous feeling.

                             Call me a prophet if I speak the truth;
                             call me a child if I'm innocent;
                             paint me Romantic with your gentle brush
                             as I shake and quiver with every touch.

                             We can walk on water with balanced grace,
                             and sojourn the shores of serenity;
                             Creativity is the guiding light,
                             all ablaze in the obsidian night.

                             With lessons learn'd, and the secrets shared,
                             the Present-Perfect is yours to transcend;
                             in the Ideal State, it's deep every time,
                             free yourself of the shackles of your mind.

                             Capture the spontaneous overflow;
                             recall emotions from tranquility;
                             Imagination is the divine key
                             to transcending our reality.


                                                 ---Sasha Heller
                                                     Fall 2007