Together Apart

When I wake up
there’s this pulling together,
a sense of gathering the pieces
of me

A dawn walk sparkles
because I am not yet all there

As I fully possess myself
the day becomes
the hunt for what’s missing

Sleep breaks down camp
and awakening starts
the coffee-making all over again

Hmmm . . . . must have something
to do with

the “I” in illusion
coming and going

dancing along daylight ridges
and losing itself among the stars
at night

I must be double dreaming –
so I have to rub my eyes twice
to get out this mess?

Indeed there must be more beds
outside of this world
than life and death . . .