The sequence on a crest.

In the night fields
of nothingness
within the confines
of colliding thoughts
I thee roam.
Walking the plank;
below the mists
of present time.
I’m falling through
the weightlessness
of blue skies
in the spiral
of swirling colours
reds, greens, and golds;
I hit the ground.
Awakened, it’s a dream
as membranes of memories
tremor on recollection
where a thought
that knows it all
masquerades.