Wonderland

Morning has broken in my hazy dark sky:

the fine lines of her softness graze the horizon,

creating a heaven of some new age

ancient glory.

Bound behind this cage of glass and stone,

I wander the fields below with only my eyes,

playfully frolicking in the dew-kissed tulips

of my mind's world.

Here in the house of mirrors,

the ceiling is made of me, and the floor is my reflection.

With a lack of peaceful slumber,

the crevices of my shadowy brain create new vistas to climb,

new oceans to sail.  Outside this window

the sun is breaking across my sky

and I transform its shape.