At times I wake in dreams.
At times I’m the observer.
At times I don’t remember.

There was a time waking felt like nothing.
There was a time living was observing.
There was a time days were black.

Time walks on.
Time will move its legs and drag you across the floor.
Time won’t look back and tell you things were missed.
Time is merciless.

This time I’ll fill my eyes with color.
This time the black will come alive.
This time I’ll live.
This time I’ll wake.