Into the Unconscious

Into the Unconscious

Dark so deep it drowns the ocean,
Softer than the whitest cotton,
Warmer than thy thick wool cloak,
Quieter still than somber folk;

Dark enfolds thee in it’s blanket,
Swallowing light- it fairly drinks it-
Folds of dark surround you still,
Smothering as your lungs it fills.

Wait, what is it there you see?
A swirl of fog? A sparkling key. . .
Out of this dark miasma wing-
To be caught back by tendrils’ cling.

Falling back into the dark. . .
Silence is gone- swift as the lark,
Rushing waves that crash in storm,
Fill your ears- sound without form.

Soon, ‘tis gone, the still returned,
That still- once for it you yearned.
Now, it seems too dark without.
The black muffles your anguished shout.

Minutes pass that seem as days,
Fevered thoughts turn black to gray.
In despair and pain, you sink
Deeper still beyond the brink.

Light is gone, a memory;
The quiet a cacophony.
You feel it laughing at your plight
Pulling you back, you cannot fight.

Suddenly, a freezing cold
Crawls down through the dark’s warm hold
The shock, the chill breaks past foul dreams;
Brings the thoughts of wintry things.

Shivering with the touch of frost,
Pinpricks of light your vision cross,
Band together in swirls of color,
Dizzying blurs, they erase the other. . .

They form into a shape you know
A caring face, it seems to glow. . .
Fighting back the black, you stand,
Reaching up to catch the hand.

Consciousness returns, so sweet,
Leaving no thought of dark’s soft deep.
You look up to see the sun,
Yet do not know just how it won. . .