Memory left drowning
betwixt and beyond
floating discarded
on yesterday’s pond

The future is calling
in voices distressed
reservoirs draining
tomorrow beset

The bridge crossing over
these waters is rough
its toll but the present
time never enough

The turnstile upon you,
its arm is still down
the cost what you’re leaving
its promise unsound

But once set in motion,
there’s no turning back
allusion receding
with blood in its tracks

All hail to the moment,
the instant supreme
whose motion internal
—all else but a dream

(Dreamsleep: October, 2021)