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| Photo by Steve Wheeler |
I was up at five again today to see the summer light stream \ through the curtain / but it wasn't this that brushed my torrid dreams \ aside it was more likely the turbulence of life in fact I'm certain /
that since the crisis hit us like a slow burning conflagration \ my brain has been exercised by thoughts of creeping doom / and it doesn't take too much imagination \ for my tired suggestible mind to irrationally assume /
that everyone I hold most dear must surely succumb \ and I will be the bearer of a lethal infection / But this although a remote possibility is pretty dumb \ to dwell upon when it robs me of my sleep and is only a vivid confection /
of a strained imagination. My dreaming offers little respite contorted as it is in strange \ contrived and convoluted tropes / and it makes me feel as though each night my rest is disturbed and rearranged \ as I am led away in ropes /
of anxiety down dark highways of doubt and fear to places surreal \ and disturbing / to a rational mind and every night the visions rear in mists of imaginings that are at once palpably unreal \ yet if I allow them to be so perturbing /
I was up at five again today to watch the dawn break silently beyond my window pane / and I am so very tired of all the white noise in my life and how it tries to shake my soul but in the final analysis another day of this has started and I am simply weary once again /
that since the crisis hit us like a slow burning conflagration \ my brain has been exercised by thoughts of creeping doom / and it doesn't take too much imagination \ for my tired suggestible mind to irrationally assume /
that everyone I hold most dear must surely succumb \ and I will be the bearer of a lethal infection / But this although a remote possibility is pretty dumb \ to dwell upon when it robs me of my sleep and is only a vivid confection /
of a strained imagination. My dreaming offers little respite contorted as it is in strange \ contrived and convoluted tropes / and it makes me feel as though each night my rest is disturbed and rearranged \ as I am led away in ropes /
of anxiety down dark highways of doubt and fear to places surreal \ and disturbing / to a rational mind and every night the visions rear in mists of imaginings that are at once palpably unreal \ yet if I allow them to be so perturbing /
I was up at five again today to watch the dawn break silently beyond my window pane / and I am so very tired of all the white noise in my life and how it tries to shake my soul but in the final analysis another day of this has started and I am simply weary once again /
Steve Wheeler © 2 July, 2020
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