There are times

There are times

When waking is as sleeping

With no past or future present

Just the moment

To contend with

In a daze of reactivity

The wonder of timelessness

Every face newly familiar

A friend of unknown origin

Barely afraid

When a bag of bones climbs

Up the stairs

To be revealed as a long lost

Bedfellow

Only visible in a mirror

When the light is low

Too many ghosts

Float in and out

To be contained

In one dream

For life is unconditional

It either is or it isn’t

What it seems

On the face of things

Perception is a multiple

Perspective

Muddling thoughts and actions

Into facts when none are true

And all are equally unlikely

In the harsh light

As bare bulbs glare

Swinging too and fro

As in a badly scripted

Horror film

So many now say movie

And the flicker

Is a neon light

When a dream within a dream

Is a plot device

Life is never quite

As simple

Or as believable

As you would like it

There is no escape

In waking and sleeping

Is too easily forgot

In the tumbledown

Of memory

When yesterday

Is tomorrow

And today,

As well as not