After a Night of Ideological Bingeing

In the posting of web log ideologies,
among debates of objectivism and politics
and economics, among the logistics of
philosophies contested, the parry and thrust
is intoxicating until I awaken, hung-over from
methodical articulation, the banging back of
thought after thought, counter point after
counter point, emotions hiding as ideas,
purposes concealed in intellectual traps
and cul-de-sacs, the concern of correct
thought leaves me feeling dirty,
angers displaced into chosen sides,
us versus them, like a war being grown
on an agar plate
waiting to escape the lab
and defile the world.

Among the ways of words
I would rather make my way
where ideas move into intuitions
and arrive at beauty by routes not taken before,
or if the arrival is to ugliness and suffering
I would rather come there inside the healing
voice than come bearing didactic tones.

In the nuances of meaning
turned back in page leaves
and branches parted to see
what lies within and what
burbles with truth, I bathe
among the metaphors, and scrub
myself clean among shades
of meaning, the cool warmth
of evening becoming dawn
and time falling in pools
of still breaths held
to sustain a glimpse
of eternity expanding
and infinity measuring
the instant
of the microcosm
while a tingle of skin
celebrates spirit and thew,
and where I find joy in solitude
and gladness with others.