shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Ken Holland

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Falling Awake

Why is it no one rises into sleep?
Dreams are not a fallen state.
When she was young, I'd watch my daughter
Be lifted up to the hours of grace and rest,
Her eyes turned inward, her breath
As rhythmic as rhyme. She rose
Into the night like any other creature
Who gave themselves up to the visions
That threaded through their minds.
How else do we make sense of this world?
How else to embrace the fragmentary?
And is it not sad that having set things aright
We're not able to stay, and find ourselves,
In the ascending hours of a terse winter's day,
Heeding the light, falling awake?