I want to live before I die.

I want to wake up

from this state of not-being and not-doing

I'm not present, or alert, giving or receiving

I just watch as the pictures go by, like an old View-Master-click a new image, click the next

How do I wake up?

I must wake up.

I don't want to dream anymore.

Inspires a feeling
It's a feeling less sensually, tangibly felt
It's more like lying on a porch swing made of clouds
Being held by them-which like a liquid or gas , fills itself in between the fingers, in the creases from neck, to elbows, to knees

But, it touches you not like a gas or liquid
It's soft like satin, yet has volume to support you, the way a salsa partner might hold your head while he dips you back

And looking up, is a canopy like from a jungle, just a floating canopy-no trunk. With sunlight shining through the thinner leaves and between branches

This is all a world of things up above.