A grey sky
A lonely day
A different way to say
Much in the same way
When rain comes and goes
Through the storm it shows
This is the direction to go
A path that winds below.
Paths onward from sun setting
Following another days bloodletting
A tired moon casts her netting
Sleep is a dream I’m getting.
Posted in General
Tagged below, bloodletting, dream, Moon, path, poem, poetry, rain, sleep, storm, sunset
A gentle falling
Of so much down.
A sleep, a dream, a cloud.
The muffling of sound,
A sleep and a dream of clouds.
But waking is no dream,
This cloud’s not what it seems.
I was asleep in this dream of clouds.
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
Beauty in death is seen
In the dreams in which we linger,
As we gently float down the stream
Is not life but one such dream?
The words upon which our resting skulls lay,
Wait to enter an absent mind.
It is too late and there is no time,
Beauty in death only repays in kind,
And dreams, it seems,
One cannot but find.