Categories
Poetry

Sleep

If sleep could touch my cheek,

I would ask for her slender hand

a thousand times.

If sleep did fall upon me now,

I dare not wake.

No.

I dare…not…

Categories
Poetry

Moon Keeper

She sat upon the third star from the moon

and watched as the Moon Keeper

lit the brightest night light

of them all.

Categories
Poetry

Sail With Me

And surely as the river

of the sky soothes me,

every star of this night

will sail with me

home.

Categories
Poetry

The Sun, The Moon, The Mind

There is no day.

There is the rise and fall of the sun.

There is the opening and closing of eyes.

But there is no day.

Only a rolling eternity

split by the sun

and the moon,

and the mind.

Categories
Life

In The Black Of Night

I’m sitting by the fire in the black of the night.

The sun shines on the other side of the world and yet here my mind is, alive without it, wondering when sleep will call for me again. My nose is cold. I’m wondering how I might fix that, too.

When the night wakes me, I lay in bed for the longest time, quite clear about the world inside of me. It’s a mystery, isn’t it, that the answers we seek in the light of the day seem somehow more visible in the dark (the actual dark).

Perhaps this awake time is good for me. A gift of energetic privacy: a land of alone, where there is no one but me to answer to, no societal rules to burden me, no expectations to snuggle in with them.

All there is in the dark of night is me, and the fire, and the moon.

I am soothed by the quiet of that.

brown beside fireplace near brown wicker basket
Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

 

 

Categories
Life

The Night

Sometimes, the night wakes me.

When the night wakes me I lie in bed and march through life in my mind, smiling at all the lovely things, frowning at all the things I wish the day had kept to itself.

I don’t know why the night chooses me as its ‘sometimes companion’. Perhaps it knows that I will always give it a chance to speak its mind.

Perhaps it thinks that I might like to speak my mind with it.

Which I would, of course;

If only the night called itself ‘the day’ and wore the sun bright and warm in its sky.

Then I’d be happy to share my life with it.

Then I’d be happy for the night to wake me.

short coated brown puppy sleeping beside grey dc skate shoe
Photo by Torsten Dettlaff on Pexels.com