I've been up for hours in my dreams
making up for wasted time
making such discoveries
and other things as shall be mine,
much as I am wont to do!
Waking hours waking days,
and uses I have put them to -
except, perhaps: a higher grade
than usual and everyday.
Not the best I've ever been.
Just a happy consciousness
of being on a streak, a roll:
the zone where muse and vision sit
and flow and aim in such made win.
Comfort in a pushing past.
Familiar always, suddenly.
Surprising always. Gratitude.
But I'm asleep. The joke's on me.
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