Between sleep and wake

18 Sep

Suspended in a washed out wakefulness,
heavy head cradled by foggy senses,
trying to discern noises and voices,
the doorbell rings, again, and once again,
its sound is clear, crisp, it rings, rings again.

Birds conspire conspicuously in the
mid-afternoon sun, its warmth reaches through
the window, gently stroking bare brown skin,
happily imbibing cosmic manna,
absorbing this transforming energy.

Sinking into this in-between space haze,
uncertain if dreams or thoughts pass by in
casual, usual, confident strides,
real and unreal merge into giddy peace,
as body digs a glorious comfort.

Between sleep and wake is a room full,
smells and tastes long forgotten nestle in,
strange gods and ghosts come and go, winking smiles,
and gravity descends, wrapping around,
turning this from a dawn to the gloaming.



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