(drifting, i am drifting now…)

The morning is strangely quiet

Save for my own shallow breathing

As I roam the borderlands that lie

Somewhere between wakefulness

And sleep.

It is a restless place of jagged memories

And sighing dreams that mark the

Lost way stations of long forgotten

Passages that I have long since let go

To seed.

(…drifting…)

Yonder stands a tree I call regret

As each blackened leaf on every

Twisted branch holds sway beneath

A blood-shot eye that may or may not

Regard it

(…because…)

There are far too many leaves

And the roots of that tree cling

Deep into brooding fields of

Consciousness that stretch in

All directions.

A place where things half-seen

Make their way through stranded

Shadows of countless yesterdays

And unknown tomorrows as they clamor to seek

Me out.

(…borderlands, drifting I…)

END

“Drifter