The Dream

Come, and ride upon my skin,
sacred traveller, of misted
thought and fantasy.

Come and dine upon the flesh
of golden Morpheus,
the mead of poets, guide
of every wand'ring sage,
the seed of madness,
hope, and peace.

Feel this sacred air, a ghostly universe to weigh.
Touch the people there, and kill them with the dawn of day.

© Mark Sheeky. Permission is required for reproduction.