I cling

To visions

In a

Sultry light

Which marks

No division

Between day

Or night

And absent

As a thought

Demised

I wait

With sleep

Before

My eyes

 In the land

Of

Magical realism

It's not real

If it's not

Magical

 If the beginning

Was the word

Let the word

Expand

For Masters

Are but people

In themselves

Living

Is the aggregate

Of man

 A self portrait

Defines something

I see

That's not mine

The inside

Raging to get out

The light of

Movement

And doubt

 Poems that were

Once my passion

Now divide

My space

With time

Which is nothing

More

Than the eve

Of tomorrow

And what will

Come after

Sometimes

My prayers are 

Answered

Immediately

Before I even

Ask them

Outstripping thought

By action

 POEM OF REFLECTION

Come with me then

On a sojourn

In time

A gift of the muse

And meant to rhyme

Truth is found by thought

Wisdom can't be bought

The words I use are mine