Even now the looming ghostly shadows of my mind prepare their assault.
To sleep, oh to sleep I must wrap my thoughts
(kindly at first, then insistant)
some desperate some adventitious
And send them in a balloon
Till they reach those beautiful
edges of sight, sound, and attention
(that percieved humble abode of the Archangel Lucifer
O morning star, son of the dawn)
which some nights yeild to bountiful dreams.
And in a dream the curtain of sanity may be lifted,
nay, must be lifted,
and the infinite expanse of the imagination,
symbolic, profound, and yet deeply confusing,
alights and sparks the unity and wholeness
fallen from heaven.
O Wisdom of my heart,
seek not death in the error of your life
I pray but this:
Let my life be a dream.