Wearily, knees unload
feet levitate to a programmed arc
and reach a cocoon of warmth.
The conscious mind juggles its jig
and jogs breathlessly away
as it’s senses switch to idle.
The carcass of day, lies dormant
and the harness of labour, slacken and release.
Lingering echoes of thought
concave, foetal like, shrink and implode;
the mind falls backwards from the surface
into a gentle caressing wave, to an inner shore.
Here alone, the sub-conscious mind awakens
to its timeless night world of rest.
Its wings spread and envelop the void
and is silver kissed by its moon’s warmth.
An imaginative breeze lifts a glide
to a dream . . . . . .