Consciousness slowly washes over my soul as I awaken from the depths of an afternoon dream

A slow floating sensation with which I roll, circular yet unhurried like carefully whipped cream

The sublime reluctantly relinquishes its grasp, as the world steadfastly makes its presence known

I don't have a choice as to where I am going, but the pace of reawakening can be my own

The world beckons my reentry, so alive with sights and sounds in their perpetual show

Still, the realm that I'm leaving is so full of wonder that it's a destination to which I again yearn to go