The morning dawn awakes, so do I
I know this much does not change day to day.
In my journeys through the night I pass by
Field of memory I can’t keep they say.
One flower picked, and I’m accused a thief
Tell me, who’s the real owner of my field?
Of my own will, can’t keep one thought so brief,
Then by whose orders are these vault doors sealed?
Nighttime. No rest for the weary it seems.
Where journey after restless journey through
The confines of these labyrinthine dreams,
Leaves me not any closer to the truth.
These are dreams I won’t remember I fear,
I see there will be no rest for me here.
Posted in Personal, Sonnets
Tagged dawn, day, door, dream, journey, labyrinth, maze, poem, poetry, rest, thief, Travel, truth, vault, weary
Where the earth gives birth to the sky,
Where the sea separates from rock,
She waits for the sun to pass by,
On day the moon now knocks,
But nightitme will have to wait.
She lies on the edge of twilight.
Posted in Musing
Tagged birth, day, edge, knock, Moon, night, poem, poetry, sea, sky, sun, twilight, wait
Another wind swept plain,
Another day looks all the same.
A grey sky winds down this way,
A cold gust seems to say:
Darkness gives way to light
But never really goes away.
After all this time am I still awake?
Or am I still sleeping? One cannot know.
This a colored lens, anxieties take?
I don’t think it would make a difference so,
Our hours, what we perceive to be day,
Are spent towards the twilight leaning;
And what’s imagined to be night will say:
Rest. Awake. Do not spend all time dreaming.
Reality demands a sacrifice.
I will rise and in doing so procure
A dream that has enough blood to suffice.
What does the waking world hold that’s allure?
I will stay asleep and remember when,
Reality is a place I had been.
Posted in Life (or something like it), Sonnets
Tagged allure, asleep, awake, blood, day, dream, hour, night, poem.poetry, reality, remember, sacrifice, sleep, time