Words wash up
on me
Sounds towel off
i hear
Things juxtapose
themselves
What would you do
i gasp
at the temerity
beaching itself
while i
race by

do instigate
something
they say

I just
write on
it

Yes, sleep is the rehearsal of death,
Where conscious moves away and hearts rest.
In the quiet dark, the soul is free,
Like waves of time, a silent sea.

Life is but a dream of night,
Life is but a dream of night,
After life, there is morning bright.
Not to fear, but to trust the flight,
As we sleep, we learn to say goodnight.

After life, our ego dies,
Superego wins in the game of dice.
We reach the eternal, soul feels light.

Hidden was I.
Hide I would.
Hidden I am.
Hiding away.
Hiding myself.
Have a been
Hidden.?Have I
Done the hiding?
Did I hide the
Hidden truth?
Helping to seek;
Not wanting to
Be Found. Both
Knowing and my
Knowing not.
Have I forgotten?
Did I take it
From the Temple?
Dipping in and out,
Hiding myself
Far from myself.
Am I not Self?