somnambulant toward remembered things,
things I’ve not yet seen;
dreaming now in the memory of color
behind the veil of tired eyes.
Look up to mountain peaks
beyond this pilgrim’s path;
where is my help to come from?
The sleepless one who dreamt
all reality into star-dusted glory,
dreamt of heaven and this gritty earth
so we could travel treacherous roads
to that hidden place just beyond;
the sleepless one is guardian
and defender against striking noon day sun,
against the chill of lonely moonlight.
He never slumbers, he never sleeps,
but he dreams just the same.
(2010)
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