Dark orb, pulsar. Weighted numb of lucidity. Rapid eye movement assists the memory. Subconscious under pinnings become all known. The things seen but not realized seep forth in this state. Ushered to the forefront, spotlit. Ear drums throb. Serpent enters childhood recollection. Tincture of dread. 

I feel the room through the density of slumber. Every wall contextualized. Looking upon myself laying. Juncture of reality. There is a rapture in the joy of helplessness. 

I feel Mother Earth churn about her axis. Every creak a dull pang of a minute, contemptuous passing. Night is cruel in it’s passage darkly trembling on. The day a wanton brother. 

The moon possess’ no curtain of grace but her toil is miasmic. 

I know her like the intimacy of my own flesh and spirit but her relativity evades me. Her posture out of place in the forebodings of this revery. Transplant of a nether self. Her form superimposed upon this dream’s refraction. 

We speak a soundless love and it is the same we knew in a time and world before now. Time is a dichotomy in this substrata, everlasting but impending in it’s race of expiration. I know the clock is short but I do not hurry. I take her glazed aura in intravenous fashion. Clasped in a dripping lull. 

Her embezzled glance tells me she remembers all, beckons to me in familiarity but we are yet pawns of the abstraction allowing this meeting. Our lacking speech inhabits the mechanism of our failed tryings. Our failure, a misnomer. Predicated by wastelands of not knowing ourselves. 

A warm body is no presence needed in the absence of oneself.

I awake in a putrid and stuck perspiration all about me. Room slated in muted tones of an abandoned noon. Mind jet lagged from the post vacuousness of this fainted translation.

The subconscious makes play of what we refuse to know by ignorance or blindspot to reveal actuality on the hidden stage of our cerebellum. 

Our gut knows what the heart will refuse.

Trepidatious is the path of knowing and peace is the dialect by which it guides us. 

I dream in disturbed steam of refuted truths and this is only how I know her.

Rhett NolandComment