I dreamed last night that I was sleeping, bare feet, in the doorway. I woke up to the sounds that I had been stealing. That I had been stealing the peace of old ruins. Old ruins where back then people came to pray. They came to pray cheering and clapping, to celebrate the day.

Celebrate the day with flowers and balloons. Flowers and balloons that he had saved in his home. His home where back then people came to play. But his leg was injured, and they took him away. He died all alone; we all looked away.

But time is calling, and it is Thursday. When walking with three friends on the mountain pathway, we stop and listen to the sounds of the day. The sounds of the day waving under our feet, where the earth hosts decay. The earth in decay that welcomes our sleep, as the day fades away.

                                                                                                                           London, Autumn 2020
                                                                                                                          

This poem was inspired by the 5th social dreaming matrix of the Deepening Creative Practice programme, which took place during the Autumn season.
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