Some Unnamed Existentialist Poem

part 1

A stream of gold courses at my feet
Calmed by glimmers of turquoise
Guided by an underbelly of smooth stones
and songs of grassroots lullabies.

A stream of gold
Met by its friends, brothers and sisters
Peeking through the gaps
Dispersed from a radiant mother.

Drips of sweat on dirty boots.

And then cross-leggedness
And then a turn of a rickety brass tap
And then my hair was golden
And the skin, and the soul
And peace.
And I was still sleeping.

A pleasant dream or a nightmare?
Where did the despair go?
Where was the loneliness of the thinking man?
And the drivel
And falling in and out of love with yourself
Over and over.

Can shuteye cure the
Agony in sinews?
Can the dreamer
Charm the living?
Should I shake my fist at sleepless nights?
Or embrace them?

part 2

Hotel for dreamers
Many stories
Experiences
Out of body
Out of patience
Out of understanding

Waking up tired,
Wishing for the bed again

Waking up saved or lost or godless
Wishing for the bed again

The mystics stay here
And the nihilists
The busy and the bored
lovers and loners
The rich, the poor
Priests and poets.
Philosophers, Politicians.

All tired.
Falling asleep.

No wake-up call.
No alarm.
No morning sun.

part 3

Dangerous minds
I awoke on the sidewalk
The merchants of meaning
Sold me something and stole it back.