His head presses down, weighed by dreams;
The night in stillness awaits a stir;
His mind is less images, more words it seems;
Unfathomable, how little in time can occur.
A toss and a turn give nothing away
of thoughts that foster inside.
The passing cars, the cat that’s stray-
in them he cannot confide.
So into cavernous, cold dark
escapes his lips a phrase.
It fills the void, for a moment painfully stark,
then it’s gone; it never stays.
A verse so profound it should have been awarded
But never acclaimed, if never recorded.
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