willingly, each night we fade, <br />drifting out from structured thought <br />into yawning oblivious depth: <br />willingly, our greatest fears embraced <br />(in such mini-deaths) and <br />that very fear withheld <br />due to such familiar occasion. <br />as we fall from knowings reach, <br />dream smeared thoughts soften <br />realities keen edge, <br />so that: <br />in this warm, comfortable place <br />(of indifference) <br />we drift contently in <br />incoherent bliss<br /><br />Christopher Withers<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mini-deaths/
