To sleep, to dream

We marvel at your serenity
before we oust the light
and drift away ourselves.
With hands folded, leaning
as if the weight of waking
was too much to shoulder,
do you witness that realm
of the unknown and untamed,
with images, with randomness,
or is your pool of reference
from which to pull restricted
to mere colors and shapes?
Or do you find buried there
in the folds of sleep visions
of fantasy, of rainbow roads
littered with flowers singing
at the sun setting on the tips
of unicorns fluttering along
like feathers on a breeze?
Some days you wake anxious
for the day’s greeting light,
others you squint terrifically
as if unwilling to relinquish
the night from your eyes,
and as the morning seeps
through to the event horizon,
the resistance is melancholic
as the first tones are tuned
before fading to laughing
as addictive as morning coffee.



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