In these long nights
I welcome sleep, yet I am
deprived of dreaming’s please, hindered
by hot thoughts and lack of comfort
strong drink and companionship; this eludes me
crystal goblets stained with palm prints
stand alone and empty around my easy chair
these relics are etched with a monogram
that cries out to eves of glory’s past
but unlike my pillows stained with sorrow’s tears
these can be cleaned and polished by the maid
in those moments, while dusk wanes and
I drift towards twilight’s throes my thought’s solace
should be under the stars and hunters moon
that accompanies my wounded soul’s remind
when in sleight of hand or upon slight
of imagination, sorrow’s deep stirs
emotion to release its rich and mysterious scent
what dares to stand and stop a good night’s sleep
to shear and rut those sheep without consent
and alter an uneventful count of odd and even numbers
races does the heart as one’s mind beats like thunder
why in the shadows does one ponder wonder?
and wallow alone in the darkness while wrestling
with body and mind to simply and seemingly fade away
and in the dimming ends of daylight a weakness comes
as I return to the slave I am, of empty nights
wrapped up in clean sheets; a sad and solitary figure
Oh! how the night escapes me and flees
to a perfection’s stranger portion of quieting slumber
would this so be a sinister celebration an
equivalent of a full day’s hours or, the Elohim Zavaoth
cum El hai / Shaddai; those multitudes so to be seen
in the morning’s glory with rested eyes and a mind’s
ration of sleep laid out like gold from a faraway
wealthy Kingdom, laying beyond the reach of poverty
and famine parched lips, burned and blistered souls and
spirits lacking Heaven’s soothe and God’s treasure
of the bliss in an innocent’s night’s sleep.


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