A New Home

After waking through hallways

Lit with divested light bulbs

The windows show no passing,

Its a reflection (that is alive)

Back at yourself as mirrors also

Of rooms- walls, floors, ceilings-

And being previously asleep in

Amorphous dreams, nightmares,

A mind can believe the limits of its

Own gateless maze, the blind alleys,

The stalemate of conditions until

The ante meridiem light opens lined

Images of yesterday into forfeits of

Morning and receptions of tomorrow.