Hypnagogia

Cocooned by warmth in twilight of awareness,

Mixed voices probe and penetrate my mind.

As if from far away, on restless tides of air

They gather here from the span of time.

Come join us in our aeon of communion.

Abjure this steadfast solitude that binds

Tendrils of desire to a monolith of care,

And enervates the heart's desire to climb.

Too soon the chorus falls below a whisper,

Oblivion has claimed it's place in line.

Till it's diurnal means whose end I gladly share

Restore me to a finite realm that's mine.

Hidden Away

Everywhere I go I feel

the aching hearts of those

who crave escape from their

own poisonous reflection.

The thought, and then

waves of crushing guilt,

a chilling glance at

inner visions of rejection.

I am caught, I am bound,

crying out within the confines

of my self-imposed seclusion.

Like many whom I meet,

I am hesitant to offer

more than casual concern.

I preserve the sanctity

of my equivocal illusion.

Past Dance

Sometimes,

remembering

the past is like

dancing in dense fog.

Straining to hear

the close,

but muffled music

made by ghosts,

spiritual vampires,

a gestalt menagerie.

A Question of Hope

Thoughts will wander far from me,

through a past, or future place.

At times so much I'll over look

the present moment's grace.

Memories may feed my soul,

or starve it till it's weak.

Dreams of what may come,

or not, in ways seductive speak.

If I could learn to apprehend

the fulness that is now,

might memories be banquets

and dreams come true somehow?

Occasional Days

The door of my heart

though never locked

may be frozen in place

on occasional days

when the dampness of tears

and rough ragged breaths

fills the stifling air.