Master Headroom

The gleaming uncertainty

Sprawls along

My wooded bedroom floor

This sage painted room

A crown molded, imperfect square

Is perched upon grainy stilts

In a city with no soul

How long will I lie here

On this 800 thread count nimbus

And wrestle motionlessly

With desire for purpose

And reasoning from the divine

Accoutered ever only

With blindness and faith?

White feathery plumpness

Cradles comfortably my crown

Enter the inevitable

Grey matter invasion

Cushy cotton holds firm

My mind with endless inquest

Repeating

Never-ending

I newly fear

Even in comfort

This is now who I am

Hearty, linen fabric hangs

Along white framed windows

Etched silver rods and rings

Support with equal heft

Gazing out to dark gray oblivion

I realize

Time and comfort

Are ever so slowly

Eluding me