5/29/02

The sun dies and my head flutters down
The pillow envelopes me
The sheets embrace me
The bed engulfs me

I race with my thoughts
Following a course through time and culture
A trail through my past
Through my failures, my desires

I come upon a hill, and I slow
Trotting, then walking,
Finally stopping
I first breathe hard, and then sip in the air

I gaze below into the mist,
Sluggishly meandering between lowland trees
Somewhere down there lies perfection
Somewhere there lies hope

Early morning gives way to light and song
I am ripped out of blue impossibility
My clockwork eyes fly open
My mind limps along eight miles behind

The dream retained ever briefly,
I lay awake and wonder
I gaze at the textured white ceiling and hope
That you are not of the mist, that you are of this life
That you are the one