An Ode To The Present
To the depth of each steady breath
and the beat of my fragile heart
in this rattled cage
My destiny is the waking man’s dream
and what happens to the sleeper
whose dream
no longer exists?
Slowly passing in the early morning hours
the dust dances off the shades onto
my bed sheets. I fall deeper.
My eyes and ears fully in tune with the
vibrations of early sunshine
I have no memory
no passing thoughts
I exist in each flicker of the eye
in the bellowing of breath that drops
to my belly
I exist in each glimmer of hope that wanes
in the rays melting
the stars to be
and as my grip tightens
I’ve already lost it.
When was the last time I appreciated the
shadow of my bed cloth?
Could I feel the grief
and dark abyss of yesterday?
It glares at me like the
reflection of a mirror
that no longer shows my face.
What is Deja Vu but a reoccurring dream?
I’m no longer sure if we’re here.
No comments:
Post a Comment