My breathing diminishes
slowing my heart,
only as much as to simulate sleep.
This is the rest I receive.
A sort of pseudo sleep,
a feigned unconsciousness.
As the body lies in stasis,
like purgatory.
Awaiting sleep, or rousing movement,
the mind is wandering
subconscious pathways.
Through childhood games and
avenues of angst and rejection.
Through unconditional love and grace,
to the present.
I skirt the halls of captured moments
and sit on the stony growths
of ill will and stubbornness,
dangling my feet in the waters of infinity.
I look upon an eternal sky,
lit with the light of things
burning brightly far away.
Some dying and receding,
some just being born,
announcing their arrival with brilliant luminescence.
Ideas in the firmament of the psyche.
A droning buzz tells the ears
to tell the mind
it is time to return home,
from its long journeys
along the streets of reminiscence.
The cool, grey dawn and a new day begins
with figments of memories and days long past
feeding my present with meaning.
HG – 1995-2000
