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