The Waking
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.
We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.
Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me, so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.
This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.
Mots clés life consciousness future sleep fate reflection destiny awareness que-sera-sera waking
We still
Annie DillardMots clés waking
The ‘Muse’ is not an artistic mystery, but a mathematical equation. The gift are those ideas you think of as you drift to sleep. The giver is that one you think of when you first awake.
Roman PayneMots clés art inspiration sleep literature creativity mysteries ideas mystery equations gifts math sleeping artistic mathematics muse waking muses mathematical payne
I was happy in the dream; but when I woke up it was with a feeling that I was falling apart, that I was cracking up from the inside and slowly falling to pieces. My heart was jumping and grating like a cold engine that doesn't want to start. My skin was crawling, and I couldn't manage a single clear thought. It was as if all my thoughts were crushed to bits just as they began to take shape. I didn't get much done that day.
Ninni HolmqvistMots clés heart dream engine cold waking
And when I wake up it's wonderful, like I've been carried quietly onto a calm, peaceful shore, and the dream, and its meaning, has broken over me like a wave and is ebbing away now, leaving me with a single, solid certainty. I know now.
Lauren OliverMots clés life dream revelation waking
...for all its apparent speed, the ship was almost perfectly silent, and he experienced an enervating, eerie feeling, as though the ancient warship, mothballed all those centuries, had somehow not yet fully woken up, and events within its sleek hull still moved to another, slower tempo, made half of dreams.
Iain BanksMots clés silence dreams waking jernau-morat-gurgeh centures made-half-of-dreams mothballed warship
Through the night we drove in a tangle of waking and sleeping, nightmares from hell and holy white dreams.
Glenda MillardMots clés dreams night hell holy sleeping nightmares tangle waking drove
I steal one glance over my shoulder as soon as we are far from the foreboding luminance of the neon glow, and it is there that my stomach leaps into my throat. Squatting just shy of the light and partially concealed by the shade of an alley is a sinister silhouette beneath a crimson cowl, beaming a demonic smile which spans from cheek to swollen cheek.
Nathan Reese MaherMots clés life music shakespeare romance rain death dreams sex water science-fiction magic emily-dickinson amnesia sacrifice apocalypse songs empty ghosts greek-mythology gothic jazz poems ships reflections magick haunting waking piano damnation androids storms desolate masquerade abandoned tempest count spectre carrack cityisle cityspire fedora haunts horace-walpole mannequins phillip-k-dick puddles specters
All is as if the world did cease to exist. The city's monuments go unseen, its past unheard, and its culture slowly fading in the dismal sea.
Nathan Reese MaherMots clés life music shakespeare romance rain death dreams sex water science-fiction magic emily-dickinson amnesia sacrifice apocalypse songs empty ghosts greek-mythology gothic jazz poems ships reflections magick haunting waking piano damnation androids storms desolate masquerade abandoned tempest count spectre carrack cityisle cityspire fedora haunts horace-walpole mannequins phillip-k-dick puddles specters
I can’t help but ask, “Do you know where you are?”
She turns to me with a foreboding glare. “Do you?
Mots clés life music shakespeare romance rain death dreams sex water science-fiction magic emily-dickinson amnesia sacrifice apocalypse songs empty ghosts greek-mythology gothic jazz poems ships reflections magick haunting waking piano damnation androids storms desolate masquerade abandoned tempest count spectre carrack cityisle cityspire fedora haunts horace-walpole mannequins phillip-k-dick puddles specters
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