The Cave Of Morpheus

Dark, and wet a sacred step
in softest feet, a warmest step,
through silver mist, an angel's breath like sparkling magic's cloak, unfurls
to lights, a million tiny eyes of death
bright stars that gaze and pierce,
a wall of stars, a scalp of tears,
a vast mouth, of love and glass fantastic fears.

An angel's breath, the liquid wind, to hug our naked liquid skin
and wake our mind to sleep, and see this world inside our memory.

© Mark Sheeky. Permission is required for reproduction.