Early Morning Dreams

It's overblown world, etched
In ink and graphite
Miracles
Of endless avenues of dust.

It's never night, never quite day,
Blooming yet faster, faster as
The world draws upon itself.

Oh, to dream, to walk on lines,
Drawn split seconds, pushing
Every which way- up
across, and even in!

Someday, all will be drawn
As for the past years,
Into the waiting, the hollow
Pillars of salt and sand.