Sweet Morpheus greeted me On the grand patch of risen grass.
I lie down for a nap Feeling vitality seeping through the dew Which kisses the blades Every morning and night.
The cirrocumulus and their kind Casually flocking in the sky I see the shapes in their crevices- Reminiscent of something playful.
I put my ear against the earth Not really listening, Flecks of soil graze my face Like a massive comb Grooming softly With tickling sensation.
Suddenly, A crackle heard from the distance.
A dynamite? A firework? A flash of lightening aimed specific? I do not know.
I do not know.
I throw my hands towards the clouds Soliciting them to take me away, Lift me up to join their somnambulism Above the ground Detached Like sleep paralysis.
From up here, Everything seems nice Because it is not vivid Nor intimate enough For concrete judgement. This makes it easy to romanticise.
Reality is surreal Surreal is happening, Set me down in my nest on a plane of human existence I’ll sleep through the evening Through the noon And the screaming I’ll imagine It’s something I don’t have the power To stop.
I’ll pretend It’s the music That powers the rain.
I’ll escape with the stratus Dreaming I was in a position To make a difference.