My nightmares
are my own;
unfelt and unseen
yet the tremors
are heard in the morn,
dull echoes
hidden in sharp alarms,
falling to sleep
waking to rise
life to day
death to night,
ending its story
as we all do
in our fatal haste to new
Faith, Health, and Other Musings
May our minds flourish with creation, and may our hands never deny its expression.
My nightmares
are my own;
unfelt and unseen
yet the tremors
are heard in the morn,
dull echoes
hidden in sharp alarms,
falling to sleep
waking to rise
life to day
death to night,
ending its story
as we all do
in our fatal haste to new