in my sleep

in the quiet lagoon of sleep,
where waves become sheets
that keep me close to myself,
where eyes rest
without questions
about light and dark,
form, shape and colour,
where breath lingers
in the slow cadence
of waters lapping steady shores
with no froth or foam,
where skin stretches out,
bared open and fragile
like blue against blue,
and the still surface of depths
waiting to be explored,
where my spirit can sit
upon a puff of cloud
and dream of worlds
on the other side,
with no fear of falling,
where darkness cradles me
in carved out reefs
harnessing an ocean,
where everything is touched
and stroked
with a kiss and whisper
of love, not war,
a place where I traverse worlds
that become the reality
I cannot yet live
outside.