You shut your eye lids and are transported into a different world, like flipping a switch, pulling a lever. Hours will pass by in my realm, but to you, galaxies swarm behind closed windows. To you, it will be moments before you awake again, if your slumber is dreamless.

If you dream I hope you dream of a world far away from here, but I hope you bring me along. And we can dance on the rings of Saturn, fly through Jupiter's core, and drink the sweet nectar of the Milky Way. Because when I am with you I hold my universe in my arms. I might never explore all of you, for you are vast, deep, complex. But I hope I can do more than scrap the surface. I hope I can dive into you and get lost in the Andromeda galaxy and loop around Orion's belt. I hope I can become so tangled that I cannot tell where you start and I begin unless I pay close attention. But I have ADD so expect me to wander.

Baby, while you sleep and galaxies pass behind your eyes I hope I can watch and fall into time with the rise and fall of your lungs and the drum of your heart. I hope we synchronize into our own awkward rhythmic beat like none other. To fall asleep to the music of your snores, subtle whispers that leak from your mouth, and the twitches your body will make life sublime.

While you are in a different world I will be right here, awaiting for your return to Earth.

i am made of...
thought...
ink and pen and paper... and so much more.
scribbled phrases on diner napkins.
post it notes stuck to walls.
scrawled doggerel in bathroom pens.
phrased ideology in lined notebooks.
spinnered words on lazerprinted A4.
scraps of inklings, on ripped butcher's bags and wrappings.
condolences in funeral books.
ideas capital lettered on cards,
pinned to cork boards.
epitaphs stonemasoned
into granite blocks.
fury arranged just so,
on parchment.
newsprinted with loose blurry, black ink on broadsheets
scribed by pointed stick on
firm wet sand.
notes on heavy cards, of love
and light bright shiny stuff.
discarded sentence startings, left crumpled, lost in a bin.
loss, written with red wine on white table cloth.
art, etched on vellum anciently old, suprisingly relevent.
tapped into tablets both stone
and techview.
blue and red markers squeaked onto white boards.
daubed on canvas with a fine sable brush.
tatttoo-ed upon ones flesh.
carved into wooden school desks.
pressed into moist clay by delicate fingernails.
marked so deeply upon a soul.
chalked to cement,
to stay for...
but a short season.
written for some very, (un)important reason.
courage to speak, sing, whisper, shout, cry, laugh, observe and ponder.
this is me....
i am a word written down.. any word, any word.
i am undeniable, desirable often incomplete
always open  always waiting
for some one...
......just like you ...
to open your heart let me in
to recognize a new start
to have a play, a scribble,
doodle, pen jive. to become
alive.... to thrive,
just begin with a single letter.....then another,
go on be brave...
..........grant me liberty....