Mental Rule

Eyes close.

When, I cannot be sure. But they sealed at will− not that I would have stopped them. The world grew still, yet, I am light. I feel its flight and shudder, every blinding rotation of its axis.

It speeds.

And I spin wildly in my trance, caught beneath the black sea of eyelids.

My body seems distant.

This

Is darkness. Perhaps night? Perhaps a cave?

Ah, exotic.

Shades of the unclear stir me, in ways, more than Earth itself stirs.

Black− though I do not feel empty, oh no

I have found space. Room

To breathe. Room

to feel. Room

To exist. I want to exist.

In this lidded night I am the cosmos. If the darkness should erupt, with fireworks, a comet, a plunging spacecraft, it would mean little. They too will fizzle, like beams long-extinguished from a deserted lighthouse.

I am infinite.

Why, why would I ever leave my night?