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Levels

By John I. Blair

Drifting into sleep
My mind selects the level of reality
To which itís game to go.

If timidityís my state
I might choose
No farther than my nose,

Bundled as it is in fuzz,
Enfolding throws,
Cozy nest.

Or if Iím braver
Iíll linger on the dayís events,
Searching for some sense.

Expansive nights,
I sail beyond familiar,
Projecting to imagined worlds,

While realizing risk
Is always part of venture
And frights may lurk within the deep.

©2012 John I. Blair


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