Mother Of Sleep
Thro’ my window I see the glade,
A clearing in the bower;
Without my volition
I shot thro’ like a blade
From a gypsy sharp shooter
And fell among the tangle of her raven
Black tresses. The daughter of Death,
She whispered,” Sleep is my name” and
Pulled me up; beautiful, sultry, smelling
Of crushed flowers; she led me past
The Spectre standing sentinel at
The portals of the temple, a bony
Cortex, and into this yawning
Vortex we fled along till we spied
A pair of caparisoned buffalos,
She bid me to mount, and adjusted my
Stirrups and we galloped thro’ the
Inky blackness in the luminance
Of the black moon and neon
stars
Faster and faster
we rode, the sweat
Poured in rivulets
down the beasts’
Cloven hooves, my
heart boomed and
My back ached: and
suddenly I
Was bathed in brilliant
white light;
I knew I was in the
presence of Peace,
Death, the Mother
of Sleep!
ã Phillip ”Peedy” David
Unedited
14 February 2002 19:09