Whisper poetries in my ears as I sleep;
Good words of men of ancient times,
Songs of oldest minstrelsy,
As they for me are far more healing,
Than itself the pious light of God,
And caresses of sent angels!
My deity are words,
And soft, swift, gurgling rhythms-
My dearest angels;
Their decaphanous witty meanings-
My sweetest lover!
Words are all what I need!
Insomnia in desire of somnolence, made me write this when farrago of thoughts came like equestrians from all directions and attacked the mind in its flourishing penury- passing, crossing and intersecting at speeds faster than that of blink of eyelids.
When we want some healing, we long for sleep, deep dousing sleep, with light of God shining in the beautiful dreams. But, I want words, I long for words in the sleep, they are my healers- my light, my angels, my lover and even my first God!
Peace!
And Good Sleep!❤️
YOU ARE READING
IMMORTAL IMMIGRANTS
PoetryThese words have escaped the city of my heart and are refugees here with their tents on the pages of this book beseeching nationalities of your hearts. Give them the nationalities of your heart.
