waking dreams

Can’t sleep,

 but not quite awake enough

 to string a coherent group of thoughts

 into a concept

Like the chronicles of my youth

The physiognomy of ideas

Splatter themselves  across a blank page

In random succession

Leaving me in awe

Of the cycles in which change and wisdom

Dance in exquisite synergy

Weaving hope into the tapestry

Of the constant state of becoming…

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