Sunday, September 19, 2010

Listening with my Eyes

The fog draws a veil over the real.
Its softness caresses each living being into a coma of perpetual star glazing.
A reverie of dreams keeps me in a state of sleepy drunkenness.

I peer out from under the covers,
sleep touching me like intermitted wipers.

A fog horn calls to me like the inner voice of awareness,
awakening me to the silence,
clearing the debris that lay in the corner of each eye.

I lay listening to nothing,
while hearing it all.

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