You open your eyes

You open your eyes

You swing your left leg rotating your acetabulofemoral joint
The heal of your foot is about to touch the cool wooden floor
Infinite possibilities are present

The floor is no longer there
Your foot is a claw that can only write sonnets
There is no space between you and history
That which has always happened will never happen again
The wooden floor is where the exegesis ends and the eisegesis begins
Your sonnets begin to claw away all possibilities
The distance between your foot and the wooden floor
Is the immeasurable void between the sublime and the juggernaut
The cool wooden floor was never there
You haven’t opened your eyes

“All’s right with the world”
“All’s right with the world”
“All’s right with the world”

Belief is at once prophetic, magical, sublime, how futile!
The space between your foot and the floor
Is either immense, or you are moving very slowly
All Grows smaller with each passing moment
The moment becomes the distance
Your foot that was a claw becomes a foot again
All your sonnets become dust and winged insects
You recognize in yourself the sublime and the juggernaut

…and carry forth from this day forward

The wooden floor is the sea of being
That you will never slip your toe in

You open your eyes