Awake

What is it like to be awake in a sleeping world?

Shadows fall from trees like apples
the moon lights the lids of the departed-
not dead-
but dead to life-
dead to the world around them;
they are sunk deep to the bottom
of the fathomless lagoon
clasping tightly their sharp harpoons
to kill the monster's of the deep
lest they provoke them
to give up what they keep.

Their eyes fall into black and white tones:
movies from the 50s, the 40s, and
suddenly
there is no sound
just tossing
just turning
just breathes
slowly churning
the recycled air
over and over
dreams of four leaf clovers.

And I'm sitting here,
on this park bench
on the dawning of the morning's yawning
and I can't help but feel myself
fall asleep as the world wakes.

To them
I am but a statue in the morning-tides,

but they never stay awake 'til midnight
to see reality change
as dreams' ships set sail from twilight
to bring me to life
through night's orb:
always changing
white light
always bringing me awake,
to life.