On the Way Back to Bed

By Roy Dean Doughty
Written 10/16/07

Tonight, the co-arising of sleeping and waking
Creates a mottled effect in which the sky
Keeps moving great bulks of forming and disintegrating
Clouds above an horizon that subtly fluctuates
Between dark scarlet and veiled white, the reflection
Of city lights and an unknown pallor,
Neither from the moon nor from its absence,
But from the clarity of another dimension poised
Midway between earth and heaven.  Entities
Come near, but as they touch us, that part
Of ourselves which might receive them
Becomes as indistinct as they, and the rendezvous,
Though intense, is not experienced in the vector
Or earthly remembrance.  So it is that the dead,
Or the uncertainties of the night, move
Through us without our knowing, and like that moon,
Ourselves, floating between speech and silence,
In which something momentous reaches a verge,
And falls . . .

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