What is there to see when closing your eyes?
In the wee hours of morn before you arise
A dream without sleeping a dream without thought
An escape from unconscious there to be caught.
The light ever-changing or is it the dark?
To motion and structure in flight like the lark
These words found the paper but where is their source?
In a dream without sleeping or need for remorse.
The poets before me, did they wake this way?
Their gift, was it there – the very first day?
Torment and ecstasy the unending drive
Sleep is not needed for the clear to arrive.
A mystery unfolds with nothing to solve
The black hole rebirths with no need to resolve
Oh clear as the spectrum with no use for light
These thought are so brilliant can’t wait for the night.