[ I was lying down. I felt terribly light, as if I were a feather on top of the bed.

I imagined much sensations were a result of an irregular rest.

Perhaps, I could let myself go into the roams of the unconsciousness for about forty five more minutes.

Slowly, I began transporting me to another reality. ]

The mystery unfolding,
the nature of the mind,
just beyond our eyes.

The reason we can’t see,
is not far…

We must lift in the air,
let the feather reach
the end of the road.

Tumbling, whirling,
we reach the ground:
It is a cloud.

We had thought
it was solid,
but time makes us understand,
we are feathers,
never down, tumbling,
only up, whirling.

When ground seems near,
we will know:
It was only another way
of exploring the skies.