As I lie in wake
my body wedged between consciences,
I dream a dream like no other,
a dream of sadness,
of happiness,
a dream of fear,
of peace,
yet, I lie

Awake

And backwards
my dreams take,
through cobbled streets and ally ways,
backyards and worn trails
effects spiralling between realms, consciences
I cannot tell though

as I lie
wondering when sleep borrows
my soul
though a watered down death
one that reverses,
giving life,
forwards, backwards
concealed beneath
the darkness

I lie,
awake

The garden out back needs mowing, but autumn bees
Good bees at work and play don’t see it that way
And spin about in the October breeze
Wind-spinning in the sun their bee ballet

The freshening winds have motivated them
To gather up and gather in the last
The last of summer goods from limb and stem -
Their easy harvests of spring have long since passed

They work, they know the winter winds will blow -
So I must find a different lawn to mow

Become present,
It’s a hero’s journey
a monk robe come heavy