The Sleeping

March 27, 2011
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To fall into the sand of sleep
Grains softly sifting down
Is rolling in the darkness deep
And fathomless, a heavy gown

Dark wool that swathes my legs and limbs
And breath is soft and feather brown
A weight rests heavy on my chest
To pull me in, but not to drown

To drift down rivers silent, still,
On raft with lamp and oar
Blanketed by dusky mist
Somewhere ahead the shore

The raft will bump and stroke against
The sandy shoals of sunlit land
Through shallow waters wade to paths
Of dreams yet to withstand

And see desires thoughts and fears
Blow before my sleeping eyes
Like colored mists of parrot’s wings
Sights that reality belies

Then to the world
My eyes will breach
And yet I do not know

In the waking, or the sleep,
What journey herein
Lies my soul

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