Slowly inward draws the breath
and rhythmic whispers out again,
the shallow pulse of slumber time,
which carries me to Middle World.
Then through half-light of leaden eyes
at the threshold of the mind,
the filmy day begins to slide
to where my alter ego lies.
Not yet asleep, nor full awake,
the echo of a heartbeat stirs
and touches at the edge of sense,
whilst alter ego beckons me.
In the greyness, knowledge waits,
the promise of this murky place.
A heaving void of weightless sighs
holding back the dark from light.
So, in this state of fitful rest,
where time and space mean nought,
concealed desires flash and fade,
'til once again I'm pushed beyond.
Oh how I crave the Middle World,
this otherness I briefly glimpse.
The vastness of the shadows slip
as daylight floods back in.



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