Thought patches sewn into a quilt
to warm away the cold,
dreams of stray thoughts, sin and guilt,
lace of life takes hold.
The mind the true and trusted sage
that causes thoughts to bend,
to touch upon a gilded age,
weave of mortal end.
A blanket born of toil and strife
is thrown upon the sands,
covered by the steps of life
and lifted in our hands.
I woke unto this quilt of night
and felt its threading break.
Love was lost within its sight.
I felt its tearing ache.
I shook it gentle in the breeze
to cleanse it as before.
No more patches such as these
that lie upon the floor.
Once again through naked screen,
closing eyes to rest,
I dream of sunlight on the green
to ease my aching breast.
Folded edges of slumber sky,
the dream quilt pure and white.
Here beneath it sleeping lie,
I dream of you this night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem