TV screens reflect radio'd dreams,

hazy streams inject red eyes

with sleepless fever. Aching seams
imagine wilderness
dancing in between waking and
delusions. The trickling
of time through these hands, falling sand.

Phantasms and lost phantoms

fog the forest of memory,
condensing on tender
leaves the dew of ache, misery.

Footprints trace forgotten

paths across mud-stained beds of
pine needles--snapping twigs--
winding finding their way to love,
"Peace, Mercy, let us sleep".

Against the silence, voices void

approach this circumvent'd
dawn now through window slats convoyed:
vain struggles, sleepless ends.

Noon passes, stories told return

to mem'ries of things unseen
but glimpsed in screens, perhaps relearn'd --
How long can time repeat?

To evening, drama plays upon

screens scattered worlds across.
Time slips out open windows, gone
like rising-setting suns.

Night falls, day breaks. Of everything

and nothing sing. Of globes
that spin together rhythms bring,
to light dark silence vast.