Asleep

Time grazes her fingers politely―
an arc, a shadow, and all is still, all will unfold. 

Excess, in demeaning oneself to empty promises 
whispered at three in the morning, or just past. As if belonging should have a place 
when stuck half a world away, and all one wants is a firm body to fill that space for just one night. 
Lonely gratitude perhaps, or two stones kicked to the side of the road; compassion and order 
found in brushing a cat's fur of its winter coat, in that knowledge 
home is for the peaceful and sure. Not for one a slave 

To the elements, to fractured reasoning and a love for dissension a seeming salve, 
a cooling lotion. In search of a voice, boundless yet certain, unfettered and wildly free. 
This is my assumption: that all is fire and drowning ocean, that all becomes a crossroad 
of indecision and failure, so that I may feel blessed 

When I bruise all too easily. 
It's time to wake. 

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Reviews

[nono]

I like this a different kind of write. And it's just beautiful. You did an amazing job on this!!

[.]

Whoa this is quite the dream there. Well presented

[Alicante lullaby]

speechless as always...that would be one heck of a sleep...

[Emily B]

wake up, Jason, wake up . . . let those dreams fade with the morning light

so glad to find new words from you here