This is a pure “stream of conscience” poem. There is actually a story here despite the fact that none was intended.

“I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity.” Edgar Allan Poe

Lost in a chasm of broken dreams
Can I measure the depth with my inky quill?
Is there another place in the realm?
Do you remember where I put my head?

Where in the world did my orb get placed?
How can I get it back and reply?
Little issues pass by
There’s something to say
Catching my breath is the chance that I take

Traded for a note, I spy with my eyes
Clashing in the path of a desert wind
Rasping in the hash of a convincing beat
Born of a lion I cannot defeat

My feet walk the trail and I scratch at my head
Oh there you are, my trusted friend
It’s good to have you back again
Of that I am sure and you can depend

I’m set on the path that I trod with intent
Never was better a moment spent.
I’m lost in the magic of this well worn dream
A casual glance is all that I need

Well, that and my head.