अ न्यू दरें Poem

Sparking awake from sleep

I breathe in a line of ancient poetry

and am surprised to discover

I am no longer running from the crumbling tower in my dreams

but am alone in the ring of silence.


What is this force which keeps me

waking, running, sleeping, then waking again?

What is this voice that comes through

In waves and waves and waves?


The crest falls.

Day begins and rest is no more.

I shall put aside, then, these visions,

and tend to the mundane things that

circle the world.

Coffee. Work. Sister. Friend.

And secretly, in stolen moments,

I close my eyes and dream-