My Monsignor, How Can You Flee? Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

My Monsignor, how can you flee
the stars, the night, the dawn,
the dusk, the seasons, weather,
animals, plants, nymphs, fauns,
and all the rest?
This be the life alternative
to the rote annoyant life
that the conscious presents
before our eyes
that the Earth tempts us
towards
power, glory, wealth and
all the rest.
My Monsignor, how can you flee
the Alternative World?
After all nearly half
of life's hours all be constrained
to sleep.
For that be the reign of the
Sub-Conscious.
And
the reign of the Sub-Conscious must not
be denied.
If so, will not Earth remain only
with tragedy upon tragedy on its hands?
Night heals the Earth from the day's
wounds.
Sleep heals the body and its woes from
daily tragedies.