POEM: Countless Dawnings

Countless Dawnings

Now
I find myself
In the middle
Of the night
Before futures tolled
Unfettered from the past
Heedless of tomorrow’s agenda
Yesterday’s experiences
Nothing but gleaned fuel
Abundantly supplying
Mediums in a peerless world
Wear darkness is my palette
Know more
Tripping on the nebulas way
Succor punching
Wholes in the heavens
Awl write
And shooting stars riding
In secret cold
Penned by unseen hands
Canvassing unreveled truths
Flat on my back
Breathless
Totally taken
As past away
And ceiling my fête
None
The less
Everything
A mirror
Comma,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
Forty winks
Punctuating day dreams
As citizens in a vegetative state
RIP and twinkle
Care-less-ly
Showing up
One’s own
Wake
Twenty years
As no ordinary time travailer
No stock d’ohs
Without a hitch
Clearing acres
Of slumber
Beyond the vale
Hidden ’em where it counts
Each singular verse
Giving weigh
To many
And still
Bard
For what is
The zzz ‘neath
Awe experience
An eternal solace system
With mouthfuls of silence
As an udder
Constellation
Pries
Another knight’s
Stay
For its always
Midnight somewhere
As this orb it goes on and on
Though offed in the mourning forgotten
Wading again
Only to be
Interrupted by countless dawnings

I have long found waking hours in the middle of the night as inspiring.  I find these in-between hours as particularly special, since they seem to be free of normal daily routines and thoughts of tomorrow.  I am often struck with many interesting ideas, but unless I get a flood of them and get up to write them down, they are mostly lost to my consciousness by dawn.  There are many theories about why we need sleep and about dreaming.  I view sleep as a time when our body, mind and soul sorts and integrates our recent experiences to incorporate them into who we are.  The brain is actually very busy during sleep.  This doesn’t surprise me, since most of our existence is subconscious.  When was the last time you consciously digested a meal or made your heart beat in perfect rhythm?  Like I am prone to say, “The subconscious: it’s not what you think.”  I find great mystery in sleep and dreaming.  I do not have a firm idea about what dreaming is all about.  However, I sometimes wonder if the anxiety present in some dreams is due to the soul returning from a deeply peaceful place only to be confronted by the less peaceful realities of conscious human life.  I do prefer to dream while I’m awake, engaged with the world.  Still, those mystical experiences and epiphanies in the middle of the night provide fuel and inspiration for my waking life.

This entry was posted in Poems, Political and Philosophical Musings and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply