Slumber

good night my friend, i bid thee rest
thy weary soul; wander in meadows fair and
be refreshed. For the darkness of night is but a ruse to bemuse
the fretful; confounded, they abandon
their fight, surrender
to delight;

they Dream.

and the stars traverse their eternal paths above
where we lay; the world ceases not
its turning, nor
the seasons their fading. But tarry thou awhile beneath the
mallorn we adorned
with our dreams; wait
for me there.

and we will traverse the oceans for things glorious, or
fight to the bitter end the inexorable march
of fate. Or
sit we, under our tree and hand in hand dream
of what has been and what will be.