The Sandman

Midnight scrapes 
across ethereal eyes
as the universe dances 
in Northern, naked skies.
Morpheus whispers dust…
from his redolent
carton of endless dreams.
Enter the world 
where everything is nothing 
and nothing is
quite as it seems.

Swathed in blankets
amid fear and sin,
fortune and providence 
entwine loosely within.
Starry nights spent 
in heaven, 
in heaven visiting the dead,
but every morning
forgotten, dreams
left wanting.

Sand castles and empires
dance madly,
in a single grain of rice.
A royal crown, 
draped in mystical blue…
back drops fall,
and fall
as finger trails on skin
silently subdue.
Mysteries guide
wide, open adventures,
as heart beats quicken
to the rhythm of danger.

Fluid time moves, yet stops
and stops,
and moves again. 
It ebbs and flows,
Melting, exposing
our soft spots,
our smooth white bellies 
and our weakened heels.
What dreams reveal.

Meditative, calm repose,
doors once open, never close.
In unknown, astral places,
players mill about
with twisted, 
and decadent faces.
Hollowness is real
as feathers 
from sacred angel wings, 
as precarious 
as a worm entering
the yellow catacombs
in the belly of a fish.
This is his gift.

Embrace the light
before it fades,
and fades.
Consume the stardust
from which dreams are made.
Hush now…
Silently, begin to drift 
in a carefree slumber,
the whisper…
the stardust…
Sandy footprints 
line the ancient floor.

Photographer: Unknown  

Listen to The Sandman (Written and Read by Rebecca Askew, Produced by Bill Hughes) by Bill Hughes #np on #SoundCloud


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