The
whispers
turning
into shouts,

Hollow rings,
the Sandman brings...

A night life begins
when eyelids close,

wakefulness
riding
shotgun
for the
sleeping self.

A
paralysed
body,
a parallel place,

eyelids
flutter in
some spasmodic
gypsy dance.

So many years,
the span
of a lifetime
spent living
in dreams,

living
through
a slumbering soul.