May 28, 2008
By Ian Vargas, Miami, FL

You know me as I know you.
I visit you before you lay your head down
Drizzle sand into your eyes; to dream.
Dreams seamless like the vast openness
Of space.
What is real? What is not real?
Becomes blurred; running away
Like chalk in a sunstorm.
Sun spots, the roar of a cosmic
Wind that shuffles cosmic
Leaves and blows away worlds
Like dust in a storm.
Roaring, throwing, blurring,
Blinding your eyes.
You know me as I know you.
I am the sting of sand on your face.

I am the grit stuck in your hair.

I am the blood that drips from your open wound,

Filling up time like air fills the sky.

You think what you dream is new?

That your imaginary world is your own?

You were born on the intraweb of consciousness.
Flowing through new ideas at speeds you
Cannot comprehend.
You assimilate them, change them. But they are

NOT your own.
Born of another time, another place
From someone you don’t know.

There is a vast wealth of knowledge
Held in that finite space you call the mind.
Information is stored for centuries; carried
Through time like hand me downs, discarded at birth
But always there.

You were born on it,
You live on it,

The intraweb of consciousness.

You know me as I know you.
I visit you as you lay down to rest,

Fill your eyes with dreams.

I am just passing through, take no notice

Of the man with a bag filled with

Grains of time.
Take no notice;

I am neither here nor there,

Just a shadow hidden
In your thoughts.

I know you as you know me.

The dreamer of dreams.

The Sandman.

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