Somnambulist

a short poem about the dreamer's journey

calm heart
still
as if there was no beating in the breast
as if the crimson river that flowed to rest
had been sucked down to the marrow that birthed it

in the cool and dark below the head of sleep
waxing, waning
shedding hides of consciousness
layered screens of loose, soft breath
crown humid airs
kissing kings and maidens heads
with hypnagogic ease

spreading abed
untangled, sheetless
demonstrating fugues
and minor keys
lifting off from reality
dreamer echoing life
in sweat stained technicolor
Clotho cutting the frayed end threads
of worlds spun from Morpheus' sands
peace in sinuous night lined flesh

do not awaken yet