Estimated Reading Time <1 Minutes
Sometimes I can rest on the horizon,
Between consciousness and sleep.
I hover on the threshold and the choice is mine:
To wake up and face the day,
Or to sink into the swirling oil slick colors behind my eyelids,
And travel back with the faeries,
To an unknown land inside the psyche.
The decision is difficult.
But in the end, Time is King and I his subject.
And I am called forth again to reality,
To make the most of his gift and create what I can,
Of my life.
