While I Pondered, Weak And Weary

There is a time somewhere between night and morning when my mind opens up a little. It's a time for inquiry, for examination, for retrospect- contained neatly within an arms length- a time when the boundaries of my thought expand just enough to give a sensation of breathing room. Room that allows me an opportunity to take that step back and look around. Enlightenment comes from the objectivity gained from this side-step, or maybe not enlightenment at all, maybe just a new, distorted perspective hidden behind the elation of what presents itself as clarity. Fantasy is at it's prime, imagination bounding uninhibited through the expanded space. The nouns beg the adjectives to paint them a portrait and the adjectives crowd about me like children eager for permission. Time and space seem altered, they belong to me. This time is mine. More alive inside of my own mind than at any point where touched by sun. When I look at the stars, I belong to them. Ambiguity is my play-mate. Concision is my sword. With them I play-fight -en garde!- until a seeping reality again hardens the table-top beneath my finger-tips, or until the pull of drowse surfaces an awareness of the pillow beneath my cheek.
Until then, dance with me in the moonlight.