​On the experience of Narcolepsy

I carry two bags
everywhere I go.

The weight of which
each moment I know.

Reality is like a shutter
for which I no longer hold the chord.

Like angels ascending and descending,
my eyelids flutter;
I drift off like Jacob
and wrestle with God
through the night.

Who can say
if God is here or there?

For me,
my mind is neither
here nor there,
and God must be in-between.