Waking in the early hours, thinking, then sleeping again; to wake to a new day.


Penetralium

Three o’clock, as I’m now wide awake,
my mind comes rustling like an old, dried snake;
coming to shed its skin of past regrets,
the ones I wish I could only forget.

Non regret; we may gratuitously say,
but how can we escape our memory?
To live is to be – catching us easily;
like an insect in amber – perfectly!

Stuck in thinking, only wanting to sleep,
Until sleep then takes me in again deep,
where a dream house arises within me;
opening its door, I entered a city;

That abiding city that’s inside myself,
where a child’s voice is now calling to me;
a voice from childhood needing attention.
for all the lost days, weeks, and years,

That all too soon have disappeared,
now lost in the sieve of my memory,
and being impermanent they cannot stay,
as all things must now pass away;

While I dream upon the net of time,
make assignments in the night,
until recalled by dawns early chime,
and awakened to another day.

And it is only in days that we live;
the days, the weeks, and years,
that all too soon shall disappear,
Leaving us as always – just here.

© D G Moody 2022




Poetry by D G Moody The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 27 times
Written on 2022-11-24 at 16:18

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Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
A meditation on existence is this. I followed along the thread of your thoughts with ease, and then at the last line felt a desire to contradict... or rather add...

"Leaving us as always – just here."

... "or there"... because I feel that just as memories are impermanent, so too is the place of consciousness.

But that does not detract from your poem, Dougie. Bravo.
Allen
2022-11-27


Alan J Ripley The PoetBay support member heart!
I'm the same waking, Between three and four.
Writing and scribbling before sleep takes me over
Once again.
2022-11-24