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