Saturday, May 12, 2012

Breaching Sleep

What is this idea that clings to the cloud
Of my thought? that seeps through the bosom
Of Orpheus, that forces entrance; loud
Is it's hammer, and proud are it's steps. Won
Many a battle has it over years
Of trials and defeats; many of our foes
Lie dead before or behind it's made path,
Fortunes of war are one and lost, our fears
Are laid waste as he passes. Aftermath
Of some great giant, colossus of old,
Strings together long drawn desires; tang
Of sweet juices are flung into the breach
Of what long ago we would have now sang,
So this idea overcomes, doth beseech.

                                  Breaching Sleep, (c) Luke Bennette, May 2012

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