Llamas & Alpacas of Machu Picchu (2017)

There’s this fraction of a state
between unconscious and awake
Where truth becomes distorted
but not disintegrated altogether
Like an intervening period between existing and perishing
in a transit bridge between now and not-so-far later

In that short span of existence
I was among a flock of birds flying south
Perhaps escaping from winter, or just imitating others
like withstanders that we are
And I could perceive a pair of feathered hands
as I lifted my skeleton off the ground

What a warmth I had been wrapped in
in that illusionary vision
that I didn’t wish to ever have to flee
had I been able to remain therein
even if I then became only a spectator
as I fleeted into subliminal fiction

But a day needed my saving
like those before, and those after
so I was hauled back into this cognisance
where I now preserve you into poetry.