HYPNAGOGIA
Are you not just yet asleep? Or not quite yet awake?
A peerless place to speak of, shelled, and halfway cross our senses
Laden with vast vision, illusive, un-lucid through the worst
A way lane leaving truth
A hallway lust with thirst
A narrow passage roamed when we're not quite yet submersed
The night light rays recede—The sounds and sheets concede
Reality crawls away
Two mirrored melting films; flashing, fading senseless sights that stray
One door whispers truth, at right, another peeks of dream
Paralyzed
Now rapt
Rapt by something in between
The bed by which we sleep - the dread by which we weep
The faint greys
The quaint haze
The beauty, the fear, the time lock of our days
This place - this blurred room; a conscience free from thought
And what a conscience yearns to seek
This hallway learns to speak
A language of the young
Less truth than flowered tongues, less lies than filtered lungs
Too awful, Too lovely
Too much mystery to describe
Fall Asleep
Let it in
Abandon the outside
Wake up love
Wake up
Put all your fears aside