Ironies

How heavy
the heart
that's empty
how light
the heart
that's full.

Sleepwalk

In slumber
fervent and soothing
when hope can seem endless
or otherwise stale,
I find myself awake.

The realities of the waking
are nothing more than that of the dreaming.

Caught in between
with the weight of the pains inside,
I walk the earth with an invisible cane.

And what of the path
narrow and steep,
I must keep walking
for no reason at all.

And I find that crippling beyond all reasons
beyond imagining
beyond all of mind's escapes.