On the tip of the tongue of a dream

Maybe everything really is black
with just some faces shining through
and this and that.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

I read this short poem in my dream right before I woke up this morning. It was profound. In my dream, it was in a book by Elizabeth Gilbert… but of course, when I woke, I realized that it was mine. I wonder if it will evolve or grow.

Leave a Reply