It came to him
With his eyes closed
As he often will

He pulled in the oars
That he had been feathering
In space – through time
Throwing the handles down in front of him

Blades bouncing up toward the heavens
“It was not real”
Stunning, but true
He was making it all up

As he went along
That is all it was
That is all it is
A rolling creation

Of the mind
More than a dream
But, not by much
He found himself smiling

What did he want?
The answer already hung in front of him
As he reached forward
Picking up the oars

Dipping the blades again
Feathering again
Smiling again
Whispering the answer as he drifted away