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This Somniferous Life

23 Jan

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In my dreams, as if in tandem,
I preview moments of my life
with a certain vain detachment,
tho’ not without its expression,
and the tangible estate within;
it’s as tho’ no life exists there,
yet alive I am, without restraint,
and with wonders metabolized,
that in cognizance of memory,
I then create ethereal landscape,
‘ere, in my mind, I am immortal;
and what slumber calls for vision,
that of this night alone in my bed,
I play out moments of obscurity,
which ne’er would hold to waking;
as with pleasured realms allayed,
‘ere comes that time of departure,
in waking then, I rise to daylight,
still in recall of places I had been,
yet in regret that all was illusion,
and only the process of scripting,
dictation of the night I spent away,
can give history of how I truly lived.

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Posted by on January 23, 2016 in My Poetry

 

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