The Wakeful Hours

   Tue, June 13, 2006 - 1:31 AM
In early morning haze I steep
Myself and I'm amazed how deep
I delve for answers in my sleep
Yet, but a glimpse of them I keep

In dreams I fly above the trees
I try it seems to love with ease
But wakefulness blows like a breeze
At consciousness my dreams, they tease

One morning the last sun will rise
And set amidst the glowing skies
I'll fast forget the lists of lies
And gently close my weary eyes

And then my thoughts will float away
Like smashed and scattered feet of clay
I'll give myself to slow decay
Then, in my dreams my soul will play


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