Sleep

Hanging on to one word, 
	trying to remember the poem as you heard
Recited over a thousand times,
	in your mind to thyself 
Now you sit restless trying to find-
	Find that last word on the tip of your mind
Over yonder thy lady rest,
	unable to share her dreams with thee
Fight and fight if you must,
	unable to feel the touch of sandman’s dust
Oh love how she sleeps,
	not an echo nor a snore
You would join her in her play,
	‘cept for the block in your way
It escapes you as you near-
	Searching for that majestic dragon
The pen is your grand sword
	Slashing through a forest of words.
Penning your grand quest,
	whilst wishing amongst the stars
Hoping to finally face your foe-
	to be done with the poem you wrote
Sleep ever mocking you so,
	echoing that you shall not pass
You place the pen to and thro’
	drawing the horn of a triumphant blow
A stanza of victims,
	may rest at your feet 
Finding a friend that had never left.
	So now you may end your quest
Your tomb awaits,
	crying out victory at last
Your victory immortal,
	but only as long as the mind stays fertile

©2012 Taihair Brown

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