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Fine Lines Between the Sheets

Sleep, that juggernaut of consciousness,
Washed over me, beguiling in its way
Of easing us toward the darkness.

With eloquence, it bade my mind
“Good evening,” and then made it so.
Truncating formalities with heavy lids.

Conquered, I lay there, inching inward,
Feeling the wind now, the sempiternal
Soul caught between two worlds, each alluring.

A blur, a not-sure-where-I-am, but I know,
Know this form, this intention tension,
To follow or to lead him to the

End. To the final story, where he will lay
His pen down on the paper like eggs on land,
Reptile-like, he’ll slither into nothing, as is his wont.

And the air will be moist with
Fresh rain, and someone alluding
To meaning, and tomorrow, and

Then I wake and pick up the pen.

--

Mad Words List 5.1.18

Juggernaut
Impetuous
Truncate
Allude
Conquer
Eloquent
Mischievous
Sempiternal
Moist
Reptile
Wind
Wont
Inch
Beguiling
Allure

--

I’ve often been fascinated with dreaming, with being asleep, the act of falling out of consciousness, more so because of being enamored with consciousness. For so many hours, we surrender ourselves on missions to rewire our minds. And at times, the rewiring is enlightening and brings forth new ideas from one realm to the next. Who can say if the idea would have existed without the dream showing us the way?

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