Is now the time? Or later still?: A poem

I am sleeping like in a dream

And I am shaken as if in rude shock

But I am submerged

in a carnival procession

where everyone is wearing costumes,

masks or face and body  paint

Is that impersonating?

Is impersonating a pardonable travesty?

Sometimes, I just don’t want to be anybody –

I just want to be invisible

and feel the invisibility

like feeling air in an air pocket!

Suddenly the carnival disappears

as if a dream was taken away from me

Was it meant to be portentous, but I

still didn’t fathom its meaning?

And I am only lying threadbare naked and supine

with the moon and stars over me

The night sky opens out in a

 forest of words, like a canopy

demanding me to call out to my destiny!

I only feel a lump in my throat,

thinking how can I answer to questionable facts.

I think: Can anything that was taken away be restored?

Or do I aspire only for a love that was embattled

among the waves of risky catastrophe?

And I ask myself: Is now the time?

Or is it later still?