The Space

The Space long poem

Photo by r e n a t a

The space behind my lids is empty-
A void that I wallow in,
Till the dawn of a new day.
Wrapped in my delirious loam of comfort,
I tranquilly lay,
Wafting in the highest of all heavens,
Nothingness and escapism a thrum through my being.
My mind glimpsing, experiencing and seeing.

I bask in the wonders of my world,
A kaleidoscope of every frequency and colour.
Buried too deep in my land of stupor and romance,
I pay no heed to the true darkness and noise,
That enrobes the cruel world
And the thin sheets that kiss my unconscious body.

When the light filters in,
My lids will open
And my deep reverie shall be broken,
As I go about the monotony of human compulsion.

But till the instance of that human constraint,
The space behind my lids will remain empty,
I will revel in the few hours without restraint,
And escape from the daily and insipid worldly plague,
Cocooned and embraced by my land,
For it is a void that I blissfully wallow in.

Wrapped in my only loam of comfort,
I tranquilly lay,
Delighting in my six-hourly daily dose,
at the highest of all heavens,
Dreading the dawn of a new day.

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