The Night Canvas

My silent nights are imbued with wonder and wander

Through realms of my own making,

Where the impossible becomes routine,

Where reality bends and twists

A conundrum of images

Finding purchase.

I float above time as a murmur,

Where high above the city of never-ending light

I skim the surface of dreams,

A kaleidoscope of illusions bleeding into one another.

On the edge of my vision,

Guiding me through the labyrinth of emotions,

Stars frolic about unfettered by the waking world.

With shadows as friends,

I speak with careful voice,

Soft and knowing,

Revealing the secrets tucked away

In the folds of my subconscious.

Making mountains rise and fall on command,

Oceans part to reveal hidden treasures,

Not the kind in a chest

Or on the ocean floor,

But the kind that swims

In all colors,

Configurations,

Curious,

And fearless.

As the architect of my personal universe,
a creator in the realm of sleep,

I bring on the dawn fraying

The edges of my dreamscape,

Allowing reality to seep in,

Uninvited,

Pulling me back into the mundane.

Oh, how the moments of lucidity

Set me free to voyage in the land of dreams

Where there are no limits to imagination,

When the night is one’s canvas.