The bedroom door kept dancing gorgeous van Gogh swirls
while sounds around my windows sang Debussy voiles,
while anything was everything. I tell myself
I’m here to try to sleep despite this fusing force
that surges deep inside my veins. I strain to close
my eyes, and first this warping world is far too bright,
my lids like curtains overwhelmed by light. Each breath
a step against this endless blend of senses. Then:
There’s ten of them all watching me from podiums.
Now comforted to know I’m not alone, I ask
them questions, seeking confidence and clues.
All but one explain their own philosophies, providing me
a sense of truth. Until the last of this crew
says: “Don’t you know that all of us are you?”