26,000 feet above the Atlantic .
Somewhere between San Francisco and Honolulu .
Waking from deep slumber ,
drugged by jet-lag .
Dragged from London via Seattle ,
heading for the land of the Maori .
From within sleep ,
touched by the remnants of a puzzling memory .
Something deep and intimate .
Something about nearly dying .
Amidst the constant engine drone ,
disorientated and bedevilled .

They said I was nearly a goner .
But all I remember is the flowers .
There was no pain ,
just head-on , high speed ,
mangled motorway wreckage .
I could see all these flowers ,
all the different colours .
So very bright ,
and kind of wavering ,
in the wind .
Maybe I was passing over ,
to the other side .
To this day ,
I still don't know why .
Is that like being close to death ?
Maybe it was a reminder of something ,
from when I was a boy .
A lost memory resurfacing ?
I wasn't feeling anything at the time .
All I can remember are those flowers ,
in my eyes .
Is that strange ?
That's all I saw .
Makes you wonder about how you die
and what's out there .
Makes you think and take stock ,
about the unknown mysteries of the universe .
Makes you realise ,
some things are just not worth a shit any longer .