Quiet quiet....

Tingle, oh granted, a dream!

Silence.   It's burden.

Toiling hands, emptied veins, to give a dream beneath space? Time?

Quiet, the flickers dissolve to the present of thought.

Ambition? A dream conceived from particles space can not deny.
Restless hands dig for reasons...

Found space beneath.

A pit below - hollowed.

The abyss  of flickers snipped away- beneath.

Subconscious dream sleeping lowly,
Dark. Shrouded pitfalls creep your thoughts.

Uncover such dirt. deafeningly  uncovered. Brighter than light upon ones dream.

All the time - below