Hypnos

The story of the world is an absorbing dream. Though longer than our lives, it sometimes feels as brief As our own rapid days, whose swiftly flowing stream Bears memory downstream: a light and helpless leaf. Our minds grow ripe with age and urge our hearts to leave The cradle of our youth for more alluring shores, Yet—late in life—we find it troubling to conceive A kinder image which our pummeled faith restores. When sleep bewitches reason on its restless course, The wind of power breathes its daring way across The distant, fleeting kingdom of our happy source Of long-forgotten songs sojourning on old loss. The heavy cataracts of wonted, dull display And leaden tension creeping down on silent man Throw freedom and its passions into disarray And wake the fiendish force whose roar bright fancies ban. The sign of spent desires—a breeze of the unseen— Takes shape upon the cloudy shore’s unlevelled sand. Alas, I cannot linger in the realm between True form and wish, before fair Hypnos takes my hand. Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com