To Sleep, Perchance To Dream Poem by Frank Witte

I am in that certain mood that makes you wonder;
Is it bad, is it good, by feelings torn asunder?
The night has fallen, the skies are clear,
silence reigns and... stars peek away in the distance.
No anxiety, no pain, no doubt in my mind, no fear,
just a moderate portion of rational resistance.

The nearby glass window I face, arms crossed, fixed my gaze
into the deep voids of eternal space, a distant piano plays.
A candle reflects reddish in a lonely glass of wine
as my mind spawns... tests for my heart's persistence.
The quiesence of this peaceful night kindles a love sublime
made from a breath divine or some new unearthly substance.

I pray the piano player continue, his melody my only fellow,
as I stare from this magic venue, into this night so hallowed.
Everything seemingly pure is in need of strength to endure
as my love, ... if that is what this feeling is, is delivered into existence.
My love rest assured, it is only up to you to set my hearts tenure.
But to properly feel and measure it may just require a sixth sense.

The innate warmth of wine glows, as I put down my glass.
The piano player reaches his final chords as I know he must.
His notes spell our names into the sizzling candle's flame
But a brief moment I... was with you despite miles of parting distance,
hesitation that came in spite of the determination not play a game.
All that pain that once was untamed, it now turns to peaceful silence.

As I go to sleep, close my eyes, recall our entangled pathways;
it is you I see, your mind's fires, and fall into a hyposomniac haze.