There is no slow transition,
One moment I am lost to this world
The next my eyes reactivate themselves.
Sometimes I know not where I am
What bedroom is this I find?
And then recognition happens.
I recognise the wardrobe doors
And the story of my life
Resumes; reset from a life
Of dreams lived elsewhere...

I know not where at all!

The dream's fragments like shards
Of glass that cannot be re-glued
Flit in and out of my mind
But now elude my mental grasp.
These first powerless seconds
Fail to stop my eyes re closing
And then the magic restarts:
A reality without boundaries;
Infinite possibilities waiting;
Hours in fleeting seconds...

Perhaps it was just a blink?

When, later, consciousness returns,
And burdened with this old body,
I start the ritual of arising
And starting another new day.
As I shave my wrinkled skin
I cannot help wondering
When I shall be waking, oddly,
In a new potentiality, where
This daily ritual will be ended.
It'll be like walking through glass...

Where there is no need to close my eyes.


© Griffonner 2024