Sleep, Minotaurs, and Innocence

It’s 12:30am, January 2, 2015. I can feel myself slowly slipping into a warm pool of sleep; however, before I lose myself to slumber and dreams, I needed to write. The piece posted below is born of that need. Good night, all.


There is a Moment

Although I claim
no expertise,
I believe
there is a moment,
perhaps an instant,
that floats,
like a wish,
between the prisons
of consciousness
and the meadows
of sleep
and, if pilfered,
then collected
in the dark wells
of pockets and purses
a wise man
could invest
said treasure
in the coffers of mages,
wield swords, make
a minotaur cry,
or sprout wings
as fragile as childhood.

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