So many ideas, images,
Floating by in a heap,
Surfacing up in troubled sleep,
Coming out for fresh breath,
Before drowning out
In that restless, heaving sea
Of swimming memories,
Flushed up from the abyss,
By a mysterious process,
A deadly flotsam of the
Instants gone by and buried deep.
You try to save many of the swirling
Pieces recalled from the dim past,
Some get caught -
Of those gasping sensations concrete,
Floating by merrily in your sleep,
Some get figured out easily,
And expressed in words,
While others escape as fugitives.
Whole experience is
Frustratingly deep...
As a mortal, limited,
You soon realize your time
Is up and now fast running out!
