Beneath the sleep
where you yourself slept
(nestled like a silent Simile)
Dug down deep in your dream's dry dirt
you uncovered a splendid city

And chiselled deap into the Egyptian door
(in letters cold and golden)
dictated from a cat eyed god
was a holy lonesome poem

“Forsake the riches of Osiris
and the stolen light of Ra
Atlantis can’t be found in dreams
For it's the dream that holds them all.”

And like the mountain slowly crawling
across the land before us
(and the sea so swiftly curling
into its own abyss)
You yourself woke again to the “sosiety offs ‘is’ ”
where Atlantis is a state of mind
and the mind a state of bliss.