Sonnettics

At night I close my eyes and thus go blind
I hope when I wake up I’ll see the light
It seems I always do; I always find
My blindness only lasts throughout the night

Sometimes when I go blind I live my dreams
Sometimes the Mares of Night assault my peace
When I go blind, reality, it seems
Is lost as subtle fantasies increase

It’s only sight, they say; it’s just one sense
We all go blind at times; sometimes it’s choice
At times the thought of darkness is intense
At times it seems my blindness finds a voice

You see the noise that lingers in your mind?
The noise of darkened dreams proclaims me blind.

I watch the streams of smoke as I exhale
They show me words I never knew I knew
They seem to know the breath they would regale
The breath, the smoke, a wispy grayish blue

The streams of smoke are remnants of a gift
A gift from Mother Earth who loves to give
I watch them rise above; I watch them lift
Above the earth, where stories often live

The stories of the smoke begets the streams
(Who says “begets” unless they’re fuckin’ high)
The stories fill the smoke with more than dreams
And dreams of smoke will lift us by and by

It makes no sense, these things of which we spoke
But sense is not the realm of streams of smoke.