The realization of truth arrives
On cusps of sleeping usually
When we get so small and
Behind our own eyes
We become drips of drops
All primordial ooze and fabric-of-the-universe
At one with everything
In these powerful and fleeting moments
When we confront our inner-
Fraud and genius
Both self-satisfied relief and disappointment
At least until we suddenly awaken
The Gestapo dogs attacking us
And everything is forgotten again