The Bed Shadow

In the deepest part of night…long past the ebb of day
I lay watching the bed shadow come through the open door
saw it lay down beside me; uncurl it’s dreams from its face
close it’s eyes, draw deep breaths and begin to snore

I wondered why a mere bed shadow is allowed to sleep so sound
while lost and egg-eyed I stared at singing shifting bedroom walls
waiting for a moment, a singular instant so profound
instead listening to sadness in the wind as its empty future calls

It is not sorrow that I feel in return…and I don’t feel sympathy
It is not anonymity projected inside my un-closeable eyes
It is an expectation sitting right there on the bed beside me
An expectation that I will follow wherever and whatever the future decides

I am the future
I am the past
I am the answers
of all questions asked.

Dreamless with dry lips…tangled legs…laying prone across the bed
my mind wanders into low earth orbit, into cluttered near space
a freeform space projectile reflecting the stars; blue and red
and reflecting what I have been thinking about…about the human race

Are we really moving forward on this rock at a thousand miles an hour?
Will we be able to rise above ourselves and shed the bonds to this earth ?
Do we really even need to leave? Or will we hide and tremble, shake and cower?
Still just scrambling humans; forever chasing ourselves in the mud and dirt…

I am the future
I am the past
I am the answers
of all questions asked.

I let myself sleep after awhile (I was the one who had designed my lack of peace)
And I will be the one who will be the architect of my forward movement when awake
The bed shadow moves closer; its dreams curl up into my body, covering my face
my mind never moves, never feels the projectile returning… causing the bed to quake.

I am the future
I am the past
If only this were true
If only this were true…

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