Monday, March 21, 2016
Sleep for some thoughts in the sleep,
Doze into another million dreams forever.
Sights will become the wool you wear,
Your area is a victorious lot of cloth.
My bed will resound with the voices of
High threats and congratulations.
Then I imagine angelic company of
Comedy and tragedy, plays of the ill
And music of the fine weather.
Sleep more tonight, if your illness is polite,
If the sleepiness takes its plague of course.
Your sleepless soul will displace the atoms,
One atom is a foolish sort, one molecule
Overshadows the lot, a solid will become liquid,
And then gaseous sights, full of dreaming that
Carries on like care and dread, how beautiful
Is the lot of wool and cloth combing your
Inner delight, so wonderful is the divine self!
Topic(s) of this poem: sleeping