Tip Toes

The silent sanctity of sleep Could be to effectively retrieve Remnants of our repressed revenant Linking the missing pieces Between the annals of folklore and immediacy Yet it’s a mystery How when I’m sound asleep I intimately tip toe towards my oblivion blissfully I barely blink as my life raft sinks into a sea of sharks Pulling apart bamboo shoots of my raft Shards of horned ivory glaciers deviously depart Chartering an emerging route to delinquently dart Out of a desolate, damning destiny Sensibly so I can spill back into my senses eloquently Gently, reminded to recapture the revelation as it came to me But I barely breath in this purgatory Cathartically contracting and reacting One node in my chain reaction To this rehearsal for eventual eternity Of uncertainty, laboriously languishing in this trance of lucid sleep Coiling, caressing subconscious subtleties Unconsciously haunting me So dauntingly