cracking open
not at the seams
right in the middle
everything falls apart
and falls away
making space for a new day
that's what the coming sleep hopes
as it lets its worn eyelids fall
its tensed muscles give in
the dream of marriage, career,
family, passion and purpose
seems to not be what it seems
and the subtle sensations
of dreams that whisper
at the edges, the seams
will come into being
carrying an endless array
of questions relentlessly persistent
to drop them off the cliff's edge
and continue up into the dark mountains
not to the warmly lit saloon
or cold clear campsite under the stars
or even to the inertia of the driver's zoom
up that dark mountain road
only into the mystery of what lies beyond
moving towards true north
only because that's the way to go
the only way to go home
though home isn't north
only the momentum towards getting there
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