Too Late Now

You’ve long suspected you’re

a myriad of presences which come

to aid your coming into outward

consciousness from sleep in stages,

phases, bits and pieces: undigested

elements eventually meant

to coalesce into whatever thesis

for the day your various arrays

of being will require – which

while arising from their mire

keep themselves apart from your

divining outward eyes: but as you

rose from night this morning

something greenish-blue

with purplish hair and random

streaks of pink shot like a blink

into the light and you’d the certain

sense that it was you. You sketched it

quickly into view. Was it running,

dancing, doing calisthenics

or about to shoot up into flight?

What repercussions might there be

for having brought it into sight?

Too late now. You found a bit

of random plasm from the mesh

of your constituent ingredients

and took a bite. You’ll see

if anything is different when

you wake up from another night. If

waking up is what you ever do again.

.