Dreaming Passing
I have been dreaming emails.
Words appear on the screen, my words,
faster than my absent fingers.
I seem to be saying my goodbyes
to distant friends and those
seldom and not lately seen.
The more intimate ones
are not in the picture.
The body withdrawn, it would seem
that consciousness survives;
but there dawns a reminder
that though serious this is dreaming.
No one is on hand to say
their goodbyes to me.
I am too preoccupied
even to check my inbox.
At least there is no pain.
I am passing away slowly
distributed into cyberspace
which is as great a beyond
as I can imagine,
universal, painless,
quite well-lit, but dark in patches.
My feet are definitely frozen,
mere numbness - so much for the body -
reminding me of Falstaff's passing
the rest of which is not
remotely coming to mind.
Ah yes, babbled of green fields.
Nothing in my line of vision
nor remembered, has colour of any sort;
with an effort the word
monochrome comes to mind.
Coming to mind! silly phrase
when I know I'm coming not to mind.
Max Richards
Wednesday 2 December 2009
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