To the Sleeper
To he who sleeps but does not dream,
Who wastes the breaths he takes between
His slumbers sloom. Encumbered by
Suspended consciousness unseen.
Sleeper, dreams you cannot savor,
Like a ship in breeze’s favor...
Lo, a sail this ship is lacking,
Shortage of the ocean’s flavor.
To you, the sleeper, much like me,
Encompassing a growing tree;
But unlike mine, yours bears no fruit,
No dazzling dreaming potency.
Sleeper, how you waste the darkness!
Thankless t’wards the twilight blackness!
Brace your sleeping mind, about to
Strive the dream, contrive the deathless.
To sleep and dream is apropos,
From paradise to hell below.
And if you still refuse to dream,
My dreams to you I will bestow.
My dreams to you I will bestow.
Copyright © Gael Attal | Year Posted 2009
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