Archive
05/27/09 - (1)
Sleep's Silent Steeps
You couldn't ever remember sleeping as deeply As you slumbered last evening. You could have been sealed in a diving bell, Suspended by ropes and hoses located in your frontal lobes, Being lowered into the Ocean of Unknown Souls.
Awakening, this dawn, that was all you could recall. As for the identity that had slipped into bed with you, It was nowhere to be located, among your stirring bones. Self-recognition was an act of blind faith. Getting up was disorienting. Dressing never occurred to you.
As morning rose above the ocean washing your shores, Leaving you stranded on a sandy spit, Ensnared in seawood-strewn ropes and hoses, You sensed something akin to freedom informing your soul, As if you'd never again slip so deeply into sleep's silent steeps.
05/27/09 - (1)
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