For five years, I’d been sleeping in the same bedroom.

Now I awake into it, without recognizing its white-washed walls, the particular angle of sunlight coming through the window.  Not knowing which city… 

I’m coming from a long way off.  From beyond time and space.

I sit up, begin to draw on my body.  Like silk pajamas—loose and soft.  The finest stuff, flowing over me like water. 

Thick and luxurious.  The stuff of my body has weight and substance.

At the same time, it’s extraordinarily delicate.  I have no desire to eat. 

I can feel each thought making its home inside me.  Its passage into the clear space of my being is palpable.  No foreign matter must be allowed ingress.  No thoughts that cram or pollute.

I sit here on the edge of the bed.