Disquieted Slumber

From slumber dark and deep

Here does an angel leap.

A specter, clothed in white,

Settled here to spend the night.

A rasping breath adds to the noise

Of deathly silence’s cherished toys.

The angel’s garments shift to black,

And I so deeply feel my lack.

The dawn breaks from behind a cloud,

Heaven’s triumph at last allowed.

And from this dream doth I wake,

I pray the Lord my soul to take.

"The best alchemists don't turn lead into gold; they turn the world into words." -William H. Gass

Freshly Dusted