Numbing theta waves fill the temple as
She glides barefoot into the warmth of the
Stained glass streams. Maroon gold leaks from every
Window. Ev'ry sense in its element;
Every sound, every sight, ev'ry
Experience at its optimum as
She kneels before the oaken altar. Curls
Shrouded in a satin scarf and body
Draped in silk, she draws her hands from their sleeves
To honour the ornate shrine before her.
Cards, candles, crystals; all spread before her
In concentric geometrics hailing
From a higher knowledge. A bamboo bowl
Sits centered in glows of flame and diffraction
All reflected in the vapour trickling
From the bowl's opening. If you inscribe
Them in the mist the earthen cauldron takes
Messages for spirits; hopes, gratitude,
Desires and prayers. She raises her finger
To carve the designations but she is
Struck sudden by invisible presence.
Anguish, torment, torture tear her apart
As hope departs
For without thought there is
No further aid she may give.
To not grant is one pain but bearable;
To deny the ability to try
Is hell.
YOU ARE READING
Sleep
PoetryA five part poem based on five different aspects and stages of sleep and how it's experienced. Open to any and all criticism x Written at age 17.
