Blinking isn't for the eye,
To wet it down as some suppose,
But it is to frame the reference
For the mind, so that we are not amazed.
We don't notice changes rapidly succeeding us.
We don't notice passages of time,
Until the pages yellow enough,
Or catastrophe comes.

Soft orchestral tones play behind the scenes,
Tuned down to a hum
Droned along by D.
It lulls me to a yawn.
I rub my eyes.
I swim into the night
And play updream.

And if I wake to some bright morning's pleasure,
Or some distressing timer's urgent plea,
To show up and punch my time card
In a factory that makes mud,
Or in the nursery where the stars are born,
I will go where life doth bid me,
For life hath never,
Never let me down.
I will go where life doth bid me,
For my life hath never let me down.

-jenn