Old days, old times, old faces, smiles,
revolve in tandem in the mind
and this at night when all is still
except the drone of spirit will.
I listen to that drone at night;
‘tis silent when the brain takes flight
into the mix and blend of days
that begat both pleasure and the pain.
And the drone is overcome by this
like trees within a swirl of mist
and lies invisibly forlorn
by all that went before.
Yet still I hear the wish, the need,
for mind to repel useless scenes
and pattern a new vision quest
for when the mind’s at rest.
Sleep, oh, sleep, amazing sleep,
and spirit will acquires a beat
that moves the mind and heart of one
towards the shade of other suns.
That shade’s a place where all must go
and they say it’s deep within the soul!