Pounding on the door of dawn

Morpheus, Phantasos and Iris, by Pierre-Narcisse Guérin, 1811 God of dreams

how does one know
they are truly awake
is it physical awareness
the sensation of being
is life a reality or
a temporal construct
a cloning of vision
thrust into the open mouth
of a screaming newborn
are we part of a Matrix
life forces harvested
sucked from our bodies
existing for an alien
indifferent satisfaction
somewhere between awakening
and sleep lies the truth
that one infinitesimal moment
when dreaming a breath or
actually taking one
pulls us into this world
yanking us from oblivion
some never wake-up to life
in that deep forever sleep
will we dream we are awake
or be satisfied to sleep
in the arms of eternity
my encapsulated self yells
pounding on the door of dawn
I thrive for morning wakefulness
treasuring the early hours
thankful that I have survived
to enjoy one more day in this
marvelous fantastic life.

©2011  Donald Harbour

7 thoughts on “Pounding on the door of dawn

  1. This is a marvelous poem! I like the double entendre of wakefulness you touch upon, to life as well as to the day. Your lack of punctuation really drew me in too, adding to the nebulous contemplation of being awake and awakening. It called me to attend more closely to get the flow, without the usual markers, which is quite enjoyable.

    I hope your healing is a smooth journey.



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