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 and more senseless guesses.
Others, recognizable faces and places long-known, now long-past.
Still others, unfamiliar, yet, strangely, answering to acquainted names my tongue easily recalls.
Others still, riotously young. These I identify as the indigene impulses of untamed naïveté. (I’m surprised to see them; for long ago, I thought, I had quit the age of innocence.)
I awaken, 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 dogged daylong question: What do you all mean?
I hunger and thirst for answers on which my well-being and my still-becoming depend.
© 2021 PRA
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