Falling Asleep

The sound of water dripping in a cave

A tap?

.

.

.

At my window

By fingernails chipped

From picking at scabs

And scrabbling around

Searching

For creativity in a black hole

Tap tap

.

.

.

Begins the tune

That makes me forget

The fence I must cross

Before bed each night

Believe

For the alternative is to sit here

In mud

.

.

.

And rot out of

Spite and courtesy

Relentless reason

And austere desire

But now

Time plays with faith and I am on the rung

Ring ring

.

.

.

Coincidence

Calling, bringing gifts

Synchronicity

Watch from the hillside

With me

As the pregnant sky fills with Jupiter.