in the middle
of morning’s
pre-dawn hours,
i awoke
with the first
beginnings
of a poem
on the tip
of my consciousness..
somehow, i knew
it would be gone
released
into the first
wakening moment
of day..
instead of
rolling over
i should have
paid attention
and scribbled
it down
instead, sleep
called me back
and i followed
its lead..
i was right..
those lines escaped
abandoning
the ship of me..
jumping overboard
into sleep’s
seas, it was
carried away
from my docks
of wakefulness…
disappearing into
the horizon
my thoughts
jumped ship
without me..
leaving in
silent mutiny
now, here i sit
stranded in
the empty waters
of morning
listing leeward
and ready to embark on
today’s journey..
i wonder now:
could this idea’s
existence have simply been
yet another
unchartered dream?
Oh how I relate to this poem.
So many “bon mots” lost
In the clouds of semi-wakefulness,
So many “perfect” phrases
And poignant, logical conclusions
Lost because of the power of sleep
Over the power of self-discipline.
Even with a pen and pad at the night stand,
I stand accused
Of merely imagining that
I turned over to write them down
And found guilty, sentenced
To profundities lost forever.