In the internet cafe

I'm surrounded by mountains, or waves, up on the wall
Where one ends and the other begins, I can't tell
Both or neither motif seems to fit
Somewhere in between
Wakefulness and sleep

Last night I dreamt
That lessons were held in the sand
Last night I dug up old notions of splendour
Retrieved an older sense of fervour

A group of Malays chatter indiscretely
With no respect for the unease apparent in my demeanour

In search for melodies most resonant
I cajole my coarser creations into retreat
Plunging into the bittersweet company
Of the epiphany better known as me

~*~

Upon reading this poem, Martin Goldstein decided to give it his own touch, below:

I'm surrounded by mountains or waves - were they on the wall?
Where one ends and the other begins - I could not tell!
Both and neither motif seem to fit
Somewhere between
Wakefulness and sleep

Last night I dreamed
That lessons were held in the sand
Last night I dug up old notions of splendour
Retrieved an older sense of fervour

A group of Malays chatter indiscreetly
With no respect for my restless heart

In search for melodies most resonant
Cajoling my coarser creations into retreat
Plunging into the bittersweet company
Of the epiphany better known as me