A Poem by Christopher Michael Smith

Breath again...
Feather-less wings stitched by pure energy.
A breeze blowing through my non-biological body.
Believe again...
No resistance...
Gliding carelessly atop highest winds.
So far up the world can seemingly fit into the very palms of these hands.
No drag...
Believe again...
Troughs of life cresting to peer above the lows I spite.
Pretentious emotions offer wisdom to the light.
Breath again...
Crawled out of the grave, protruding spoon between these lips held tight.
Ponderous world of illusion led by greedy minds that all think alike.
Another ether world bathed in radiant sunlit delight.
Another dance with DMT induced REM sleep as I lose consciousness another night.
Never remember how I enter.
Seems to pick up halfway from the center.
Eyes washed squeaky clean of the waking life's being.
Infinite colors now seen give no justice to the physical realm's spectrum of seeing.
Graceful dance orchestrated with the mastermind's making.
Gliding by ghosts of past and spirits of which no first breath has yet been taken.
Infinite universal dance floor cosmically inviting all that exist to A Holy Masquerade Ball 
Right smack dab in the middle of the biggest bang theory of them all.
Not a worry in mind, eyes are closed. 
Barefooted feet & these toes are exposed.
Shedding the Ego in sleep.
A family of strangers sharing a rhythmic heart beat.
Confidence in the collective.
Memories dashed with a hint of perspective.
Eyes see & mouths speak.
Warm bed blanketing the shell I shed nightly.
Pillow tucked under head.
Soul in flight in that awe inspiring magical land.
Desiring nothing more than to wakefully recall every last detail my dreams explored.
Magnificent dreamworld pulsing beautiful frequencies into the animation we all adore.
The peaceful elegance of a free mind's flow.
Whimsical taste of Nirvana I long for, I know.
A weightless world reminiscent to spiritual growth. 
True freedom visits in sleep where I can fly & let all things go.
Exhaustively I try to recreate just a smidgen of truth I know I know.
Wasting away pints of paint trying to re-illustrate the dreamworld's luminescent afterglow. 
Breath again...
Believe again...
Confidence in the collective...
Memories dashed with a hint of perspective...
I know, I know.
Sometimes it's hard to remember how to float,
Until I fall softly back down slumber's slope, 
Only to embrace dream's lucid afterglow.

© 2013 Christopher Michael Smith

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Added on October 6, 2013
Last Updated on October 6, 2013


Christopher Michael Smith
Christopher Michael Smith

Clinton, NC

Ego sum qui sum - 'I am what I am' Poetry is my creative expression here upon this floating ball of dust called Earth. Nothing feels as appeasing as watching a pen glide across a virgin page, watc.. more..