Scenario

When sleep was as promiscuous as the air
And I flew through it in waves
As astonishing as a bird
Or my body threw me,
And I alighted on the island of branching syllables,
And I found a true voice, which no one heard,
And crowed and crowed, as silently as a bird
Pinned in water,

With my eyes I saw that I was awake,
And I felt I was awake,
Because the air was rushed
And the world was hushed —
But I was wandering out of a dream
Into which I longed to return...

And I knew the fluidity of things:
This all encompassing air,
And each thing breaking from its surface
Like a wave arising, then subsiding,
Again, into the fluid
Like dreams rising up from the dream
And then subsiding again down into the dream
Like a dream of the earth,

And I thought that death must be pleasant
If sleep is pleasant and dreams are pleasant —
But dreams being not always pleasant,
And life not always pleasant,
Since sometimes a life is just something that yearns
For the dream and the sleep of the dream to return,

I thought of the old nightmare of the waves,
Breaking further and further over the shore,
Until the shore is engulfed and subsides
Like a sigh and bubbles out into the water,
Which will close and be still and be pure,

And I will hover over the silence,
And then again demure.