Come they, near as soon as evening’s shade falls
and I recline to rest;
stepping from the edges of unconscious shadow,
scurrying tirelessly through the small hours of next morn,
a kaleidoscopic array of
figures and creatures…
Some, imaged-paradoxes, evading understanding, making fools of my senseless glances.
Others, recognizable faces and places long-known, now long-past.
Still others, unfamiliar, yet answering to acquainted names my tongue easily recalls.
Others still, young and old, hand-in-hand –
these I identify as the indigene impulses of untamed naïveté
(I’m surprised to see them; for so long ago I [thought I!] had forsaken the age of innocence).
I waken, straining, striving to reach back, to recall all that I beheld. What little I remember standing at patient attention, yet silent, replying not to my persistent daylong question: What do you all mean?
I hunger and thirst for answers on which my well-being and my still-becoming depend.