On my head is the crown,
Around my being, the gown
In my hand the scepter, my wand
And at my feet, the world
In tribute, swearing its fealty
In the clouds, I see
Bigger and much larger,
Worlds beyond imagining
Hanging patiently in the skies:
Ripe corn at its stalks
Waiting to be plundered and devoured.
And yet…
Inside my head, no longer do I think
I have been placed on auto cruise
And in my heart, the cold has chased out the heat
My legs no longer run
My arms hang still as I plow along
Daily I drag my feet painfully as I do my time
Slowly, heavily, thinking only of the night,
And the blessed sleep with which it cheers us.
And yet…
When it comes, the night
It is only to discover that sleep
Along with its cheer has fled
For to my sorrow
I find myself thinking of tomorrow
07/01/2015
3.00pm
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Land and sand! ! With the muse of my wand. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.