Night-Noise

We all know it,
Whether first dreams,
Or last gasps before sunrise,
We know the night-noise.

How subtle its beginnings,
Preying on our relaxed drift,
That short time of remembering today,
Imagining tomorrow.

How little control we have

Over these shadowed experiences,
These realms of repression
Kept at bay during the day,
Free to roam nights in our sleep.

We awaken to disturbances,
Unknown origins haunting our consciousness,
Even as books,
Scholars,
Shrinks,
Tell us such is not in our control.

Relax.

 
Shake it off.
Its purpose served,
Revealing something
Of one's closeted fears,
Not known yesterday,
Yet companions for today.

Spring into your start.

 
Imagined Coffee,
Croissant,
Smiles to the doorman,
Even given to the cantankerous next door neighbor.
Makes no difference.

You're free.

For...

Night-Noise,
Having done its job,
Convinces you you're awake,
Wiser for the sleepless night,
Less naïve,
More attentive,
Less than that who you never were,
But were told you must be.
Yet, you are here,
Serving the moment,
Either identity…

Run into the yard.

 
Imagine ripping off your clothes,
Dream of effrontery all around,
Even though you are but in a cell
You created.

One's life sentence
Grants no reprieve,
Only night-noise,
That strange redemption of hope,
Reality yet to be accepted.