I stumble into my usual discontented   
bout  of sleep -  
a fragment of the fourth dimension
traps my insides inside an echo of a dream –
time, like the river Lethe,washes over me,
I am left bereft, left to float upon the river of unmindfulness
towards the golden dome which glows with synesthetic force –           
a pulsating kaleidoscope of times –     present-future-past –
flashes fast across the retina –
entering my sleeping, ever-wakeful mind,
like shards of jagged, coloured glass,
splinters of a scream      roll in
upon the tides of sight and sound, smell, touch and taste 
and rush me towards these myriad-grains of translucent sand
mingling with the rain that never dries.

Beneath the silvery moon lies                    
The man-who-never-dies.

The multi-verse within