Sleep

*note: Morpheus is the Greek god of dreams (or one of them, at least).


This is the Sandman's embrace:
I see a rising moon -
an impossible, immense rising moon -
spanning a shadowed horizon,
ponderous and swollen
in its ascent towards the stars -
twittering in their ethereal blues,
whispering soft halos
then laughing radiant flares
in a sky blacker then emptiness.

          This is Morpheus's charm:
          I ascend with the bloated moon
          to fly with fish
          that flit among tittering stars,
          each glimmering a rainbow shade,
          ignorant of their place
          in shimmering waters far below,
          and I trail a tether
          that no longer holds me
          near the mired Earth.

                    This is the Sandman's embrace -
                    this is Morpheus's charm:
                    Subconscious desire liberated
                    from prudish conscious thought.
                    I am content to drowse,
                    cradled in his arms,
                    tangled in his somnolent trance,
                    where unrelenting reality
                    conforms to wish and whimsy.
                    Here, I dream.