The world lost in illusion / real thoughts and topics unspoken / ...

It was near morning and I was someplace between being awake and sleep. My eyes were closed and my breath was slow, but I was aware of my thoughts. A poem escaped my lips, words forming of their own accord. The cadence and rhythm worked well together in my ear. The lines lengthened and flowed together. Soon I grew worried that it was veering from insight and depth into tackiness, but at its close I brought it back into the fold.