From walk, to crawl, to belly down upon the ground; a great rest was in the final stages of beginning.
It had been dutifully prepared for, the entire day prior. With toil and play, reciting and rehearsing, lamenting and laughing.
Now that the body lay upon solid surface and could sink no further; the final fall would bring them to a new space.
A mis-remembered time.
A double realm of inner workings, crafted from outward forces.
Alive and thriving, with complexity and extremity ... a shame it should all be gone by morning's light.
This is the miraculous tragedy of my every sleeping night.
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