Well of Sleep

For every offered moment of bliss, there is someone who will complain about it. That, I suppose, is that. I'm posting this because it more accurately captures my current state of mind then anything else I could say. I suppose I felt the same way when I wrote it. Anyway...

WELL OF SLEEP

Excerpt from Tales & Verse from the Tower Room, by Lord David

Of which well that I might drink

to bring me to eternal sleep

to dip my cup into that stream

elixir of unending dream

escaping mundane daily dross

fashioned in a manner gross

wherein each & every blade

reflects how very stars were made

in vision passing, fancy pure,

that leaves me behind to endure

when in slumber I have known

lovers of no flesh and bone

but gossamer and wind and sky

of beauty such transcends the eye

where pleasures endless multiply.

Adventures of the strangest kind

challenge limits of my mind

scenic vistas shift and change

sea and mountain rearrange

ride on wing back, fall and fly,

breathe of color, feel with eye,

yet waken to this morbid shell

and leave behind what none can tell.

Now separation takes it's toll

passing faces grim and cold

contact at it's best so fleeting

each heart in a cage is beating

touch- a mere and hopeless taste

desire's greed has laid to waste

whatever comfort offered there

is soon dipped in rich despair

a feast on each and every plate

stuffed with solitary fate.

Me, I shun this bitter taste

rather a toast that I shall make;

bring me none for I shall wait

for wine steeped long with opiate

and dip my cup into that stream

to plunge me into endless dream

of that well that I might drink

to bring me to eternal sleep.