When The Brain Grows Tired, Then Yield And Cease Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

Wait for next dawn. next day.

You will then sleep and rest your clay.

Your clay even if clay to the brain sends
arms and troops.

And when you wake you use these arms and troops.

See reason lingers, lingers slow and tired
eyes half closed

Round it the dusk gathers red, she looks
into the twilight waters.

The wounds that parch are healed at night.

The gaping rock that gives the water of
verse and song is dry.

But that rock fills again with water at night.

Night fails not, rest deep.