Waiting for "Good Morning"

A poem I wrote for English 12.



As we drift throughout reality,
an entity of unknown energy,
we find there is no synergy,
within this timeless dimension.

But while one explores the ethereal,
the other is strictly in dissension,
for nothing is as it seems,
within this timeless dimension.
We question our sanity,
in this timeless dimension.

As the Lost fall,
crushed by the singularity of an unrelenting paradox,
further, further into wonderment,
 it cannot be explained, but what?
The sounds?
The sights?
The smells?
The nothingness that is the potential of the darkness.
Is this fear to thee?
This may be fear,
but is this not reality?
Why do we ask this question?
As we tumble further, further,
into this timeless dimension.
We question reality,
within this timeless dimension.

Nearly the unknown seems palpable,
and the end seems nearer.
The question of an unknown energy,
along with a lack of reality,
begins to be tamed.
The Lost remember their name,
and the unexplained is explained,
when a sound breaks through,
or a voice may too,
Help us all!
And return to reality.
To bring form to an entity of unknown energy,
and re-establish a new found synergy,
with a simple,
"Good Morning."

Compound-Complexing Thought

Work is the glue that holds our nation together, sticking people where they are meant to be; Work keeps us, as a nation, diligent and devoted.