When almost awake it is so clear. But without some kind of hook or ladle, it's gone in a flash. Barely a hint of its nourishing savor.
I live in both worlds now
and my allegiance is fleeting.
Dream Master, help me. I am spent.
Truth shines like the sun
till it sets without a snapshot.
Misplaced in mental obligation,
habit and memory.
I must write it down,
or get enough rest and nourishment.
The morning is fresh, but the canary is free.
No concept of one till another flies through –
like migrating birds to the mechanics
of earth revolving.
Truth I know is the anticipation
of stone soup.
Then, after many guests
and hours of cooking,
it's back to the heart
till the words are not mine
yet precious as my lover.
© 2013 Ardi Keim