ever make a wish?

on friday,
thirteenth day
of the ninth month.

the gate opens
beyond the shadow
of the veil.

i sense glimpses.
a past perhaps,
maybe the last
before the present.

i did.

shedding light
on the unseen;
when the dream
is waking and walking;
where the lifeless
is breathing;
why that deserted
still stands.

lucid is aware,
and i know.
tonight, i pick
another rose, in lightning...
and fog engulfs.

eyes see better closed,
against the
jagged electrostatic--
when shadows are illuminated.

and i peer
beyond the window...