An internal sky, lush with dreaming,
fills my waking hours,
there are no lines between the dreams
that invade and the dreams that appear,
birthing stars in filigreed light. All shades
of blue fill the days, overwashes that
brighten and fade and flicker
with smiles and ideas and unresolved emotions.
Mosaics of mosques in ancient lands,
fractured feeling laid out on the floor
and up the walls, the picture never quite in focus,
never quite there.
There is no picture.
Only a sketch of a possibility that fled.
Tempests and temptations could turn
and see a sea of uncertainty, or cross the board
in unconditional surrender to something
that has no reason or explanation,
just is — like the walk don’t walk dilemma
on the side of a fence that was too long ago.
Eyes look inward,
wasting precious time,
questions and musings on you,
where you are
what you do
how you feel
then gone as the sounds of the day intrude,
and
blinking
memory of what is supposed to be
feeling empty
returns
