Of Dream Travels

For a blessed hour to sleep and awaken in your presence, as the dusty antique grandfather clock chimes in solemnity's hour of bereavement, to whom I am enslaved, always. My cherish of you in unquenchable fires, scorching, undying, as the netherworld's watchmen appear in the eve shadows- remnants of the years past joys and sorrows. All of life's anguish of regrets, of sweeter remembrances, of seeking solace from the sympathy of the saints, as summertide's augustness begins to weep farewell, fading. I still hear your jeweled singing, of dream travels through the expanse of misted drapes of stars of a sapphire and golden heaven-gate, to have communion with you. ~