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Disillusions Dreams
In these long nights I welcome sleep, yet I am deprived of dreaming’s please, hindered by hot thoughts and lack of comfort strong drink and companionship; this eludes me crystal goblets stained with palm prints stand alone and empty around my easy chair these relics are etched with a monogram that cries out to eves of glory’s past but unlike my pillows stained with sorrow’s tears these can be cleaned and polished by the maid in those moments, while dusk wanes and I drift towards twilight’s throes my thought’s solace should be under the stars and hunters moon that accompanies my wounded soul’s remind when in sleight of hand or upon slight of imagination, sorrow’s deep stirs emotion to release its rich and mysterious scent what dares to stand and stop a good night’s sleep to shear and rut those sheep without consent and alter an uneventful count of odd and even numbers races does the heart as one’s mind beats like thunder why in the shadows does one ponder wonder? and wallow alone in the darkness while wrestling with body and mind to simply and seemingly fade away and in the dimming ends of daylight a weakness comes as I return to the slave I am, of empty nights wrapped up in clean sheets; a sad and solitary figure Oh! how the night escapes me and flees to a perfection’s stranger portion of quieting slumber would this so be a sinister celebration an equivalent of a full day’s hours or, the Elohim Zavaoth cum El hai / Shaddai; those multitudes so to be seen in the morning’s glory with rested eyes and a mind’s ration of sleep laid out like gold from a faraway wealthy Kingdom, laying beyond the reach of poverty and famine parched lips, burned and blistered souls and spirits lacking Heaven’s soothe and God’s treasure of the bliss in an innocent’s night’s sleep.
Copyright © 2024 Michael Walkerjohn. All Rights Reserved

Book: Shattered Sighs