In the wee hoursWe sing our dreamsong.
Still air dances with
Sweet secret movement.
There is no spoon,Nor is there echo any
Ever from puresong,
Trailing verbs & reverb.
Silent hay rollsHide shadows within
Dark music mosaics-
Reality abstracted view.
Turns taken in sync,Bereft of timekeepers,
Ruleseekers and rakes.
Smooth as light reflected.
In the fleeting eclipse end,Where most sleep awakens
Our songs fly away with us
To the other side of the world…