[Insert Whimsically Deep Title Here]

bazaar

Looking to the side, I see I'm no longer home

I don't know where I am, but I've been here before

multicolored spices drift thru the air in splendid dances

my feet sink into a rug matching the ones hanging up

Yellow, elegant light emanates from a swinging lamp, casting

shadows of dancing mysteries on the side of the stall

On the floor a wrinkled stool sits unburdened, but strains

like Atlas buckling under the weight of empty heavens

"Is that an elephant leg?", I ask of no one in particular

a voice says yes in a tongue I can't understand

I think I am in Myanmar, or was it still Burma in this time?

Before I can grasp anything, existence fades into dreams

I'm back in my study, looking for a new direction

any will do I suppose, so long I get there in time