Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter

Sunday, February 22, 2004

Rapid Eye

In the recesses,
collective you
with the sub-self image
under memory, under water,
under lock and key.
They were lost in an instant
those visions, only during sleep.
A mistake to believe
they could be found on waking.
And there it happens again,
that I was too lazy, too tired,
too cold to search room to room
for a pad of paper and a pencil.
If this was a quest for
a dream tonight, would I
have remembered those
circles spiraling knots and
overlapping like the rope of
a lifeline just out of reach.

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