In Sleep.

Dormant, the wistful wings
of poesy -
the scribe of verse in
nurtured domains.

Within the realms of churches
exist no stones
inscribed with the memories
of the reaped -

just embraces of eternities,

Such Sights as Youthful Poets Dream - Walter Crane

whereby the mellow strains
of lyric sought,

the seeds of the symphonies
of the soul's harp
and illustrious images of
illuminated ideal.

A shrine of the passion,
as that of the entwined
bodies of the consumed,

as that of the kindling
of brotherhoods that
endure lifetimes.

Quench tender cravings with
the languor of rosy lips
and echoes of ecstacies about
the deepest caverns of the
soul,
the excesses of the
dream.



© Cecil Field