In My Rest

My head finds rest among
The blankets wrapped in silver lining.
My eyes are still,
And out of nothing see the shadows dancing.

Upon this mount
My body feels the warmth of comfort.
The world goes silent
And leads me out of violence.

My hands and feet are lifeless,
No grasp is left within my fist,
No step beneath my feet,
Yet still I feel a something in my midst.

It moves and sways,
It speaks to me in blurs,
And yet I see so clear.
I see the smile, I feel the tear.

I feel the wind
Flow through my breathless hair.
I feel the grass and stone
In hands and feet, that still lay prone.

These shapes - so real -
And yet somehow surreal
In that their clarity is stained
By something unexplained.

What something could it be
That brings upon the dancing shadows,
The dark light,
The colored white?

And even, may I ask,
What proof is there?
How do I know?
How can I, upon these things, swear?

The myster is great.
I cannot say I see these things,
And yet, I do.
I know the thoughts they bring.

So still I lay my head
Upon the mount so sweet.
And in my rest, I live.
In my rest, I am complete.

-Phil