I wonder what hides in the line between dreams and our waking consciousness
What treasures or poisons exist only to have us ponder
Over what we ourselves sketch onto the safe canvas of our eyelids,
Washing us in our own ocean of pleasure
Before erasure
Before that which we sculpted through the witching hour
Is reduced to something so distant
So cruelly transparent
But with an ethereal complexity even its creator cannot comprehend
Read more of Aidan’s poetry on Instagram – @pursuit.of.poetry
