Monday, March 30, 2009

The Dream King

The lights from the city embrace the night's sky
A warm corona of love lights glow softly,
As the nocturnal mother winks her beautiful eye.

As the twilight goes on, the nights never go out
The citizens sleep, but the halogenic symphony
of viridian, gold, and red stand firmly devout.

They create a beacon of hope, seldomly seen
By those wrapped up in the evening's nocturnal dream.
These serene, peaceful sleepers do not hear the passing of the Jeep
That passes by as civilization bleats with the cries of ten thousand electric sheep.

While the town's napping citizens rest with the sands of Morpheus in their eye,
They remember the lights of ancient cities,
And wells of forgotten grottoes, that have long ago run dry.

Some recall the flickering flames that played on the temples of ancient Zion
While others see a lush, tropical oasis...
Visited by holy Arab horsemen, hunting the almighty white lion.

People remember events long past, but still occurring
The electric lights flicker while the dreamers are stirring.

As the rays of the sun have two hours to rise,
The gentles sleepers still rest with the dream sands in their eyes
Some conjure images of regal, courtly kings
While other weary travelers imagine barbarous things.

The moon sinks and the sun begins her mighty reign
Over the lands, lovingly embraced by dewy rain.
The dreamers collectively begin to wake
When they breathe the first breath of morning...
The sands of sleep begin to break.

Wakers all over shrug off their dreams
As the sun cascades the land in her heavenly beams
They never truly forget the times that have gone past
It is just hard to remember when they live their lives too fast.

Morpheus, the Dream King, returns to his land
On his throne of dreams, he idly runs his fingers through sand.
Only a few more hours to go, to wait
Before the Dream King can help the sleepers remember their fate.

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