Nights
Sleepless nights, counting stars and runaway sheep,
Trying to cross over into some kind of wonderland,
Dreaming a while on the border of wake and sleep,
My bed is rather comfy and I do not feel the need,
To get up and smoke or eat and drink,
Or...
Slowly drifting off,
First gentle image appearing,
A language without sounds,
Souls intercommunicating,
A little story unfolds,
And as ever I am the star,
But there are other faces here,
Strange and yet familiar,
They are saying important things,
Full of prophesy and warning,
And I can barely understand,
What all this may mean to me,
And when I reach for it
It slips, I shake, awake;
Time for morning coffee. |
