ON FIRST LOOKING INTO JUNG'S "MAN AND HIS SYMBOLS"

                      


    Before my birth
              words showered down on me.
    Before I spoke
              I understood.
                       I tried. I called. I named
                           I chatted thoughtlessly
                                      engulfed in rapid discourse,
        surging pride.
       Before I read
              I knew the picture book.
                    From letters
                               sounds and syllables arose,
                                     till I was swept away
       at every look,
                                      immersed in verse
         and dialogue and prose.
     Since birth
               (before?)
                        I've dreamt.
                               But I forgot the horror,
                                    puzzle, bliss
          before dawn's glow.
      Yet after reading Jung
             hot visions shot and spewed up
                   geyser-like from deep below
                             infusing my primed conscious mind           
   with aw, like Keller
        at the spigot
                 shouting "Waaaaa..."

 

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[TLK]

Jung's symbol was a nerd being wedgied eternally.