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Such light flooded beauty Such broad frigid darkness But if at the threshold, can't we find a bland calm? and such small humble quiet such splendorous crescendoes But if at the threshold, don't we leak half-spoken psalms? Or will the world always beckon from on defined side and must I always lie in the darkness to wait for the light? The light of day or of glad heart and mind or just any kind, merciful beacon like waking from time passed so easily by sleeping But this wakeful mind can project its own beam It's a sorry spotlight on the ticking time stream Wrists and walls full of clocks always reminding me to count moments and deeds like a coin currency And I'm so broke, so spent, yet wakeful Embarrassed to be bored Why can't somersault I inward towards those pastures of gold? I thought we had just two earth's for irises, and a conscious light that shines through projecting this world onto nothingness... they said, "retreat from the dark world, into that light. Such a vast, such a patiently obvious timelessness!" But my eyes are aging with each menacing tick and more so without sleep, these bloodshot webs are woven so thick And this world is dying, and for it I'm lovesick Bu then I must have dozed off Because I woke to write this. From Letras Mania