for the moment of sleep-walking.
I would commence my odyssey
with no fore-fear of call back.
I don't need fingers of the wakeful
to serve as pointers for me.
What could they possibly say
about ways they never saw!
Beyond that dazzled first step
unto the inner eyes of closed lids.
Goblins would wait for me
with treasures of magical visions.
That charmed lad in festive throngs
would be back, wide eyed,
his zest, leading like father's finger.
Way-side vendors
would return my juvenile days.
Jingling bells, whistling loud,
I would buy back everything.
I would pilfer a glass bangle
for the play-mate on swing-wing.
In the spring of vital stats
a rainbow would spread wide
as blushing cheeks of the mistress.
Benevolent fore-fathers
who vanished in season changes,
mates beyond the river of death,
they would come by in dream lanes.
This dungeon would keep in store
all that life never offered.
And in the end,
in that moment of temptation,
learning that secret
that forbids back-glance,
I would embark that ferry.
Beyond the river of forgetfulness
lies the land of no return.