SLEEP
Leaves under feet
The sun is setting quickly
And all the world is sleeping
Heartrate slowly, steady now
We hibernate.
This is the cold of a dreamer’s sleep
Trying to forget how cold it is you are
As river’s water turns to ice
Treacherous slippery shining bright
Will I see you in summer?
Will I see you in spring?
We must meet at the meadow
Where the trees retreat
We must meet at the creek
Where the children sleep
And we must talk till sundown
As if it were our last spring
Leading to our last summer
And last autumn, and last winter
And then the seasons are suspended
And wherever Gautama’s flame went –
after having been blown out –
There we shall go too.
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