Saturday, October 1, 2011

The Great Wide Asleep

Nestled in the great wide asleep
   golden in the cusp
A spiral of songs drifted to me
   and in their rivers I belong
Translucent the mood
   nothing is veiled
With eye's clear focus
The gentle rustle of slumber's soft timbrel
   fell upon the floor like padded slippers
Translucent the mood
   perplexity turned to whisper and thus was subdued
There is no end to trace beginning's rupture
No path for which to aspire
   like a sunken tome
   time's forever lost in the chasm of the asleep
Petal to metal, concentration does not break
Wrapped, entranced
   the slumber enthralls and beckons
   the awaken to fall once more

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