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Click hereWhere is sleep ?
Over the dark side of the moon,
Down a valley dark with shadow,
Veiled in Caravaggio's spiritual darkness,
Sitting on stars whose light has faded.
In evening halls where music plays its final note,
In twilight crowned with silence,
Carved in the absence of time,
Where dance and song and pain have disappeared.
Life, thou art a dream we dream,
Death, thou art a sleep without dreams;
A moment's rest before a new awakening;
The prelude to a future light we know not of.
You draw us through your insomnia with lovely images of a soft and sad night, I think the direct question "Where is sleep?" may have made a pretty good title instead of introductory line. It seems a bit misplaced to me, but not so bad as to make me enjoy this poem any less. This poem has been mentioned in the New Poems Review thread on the Poetry Feedback and Discussion forum.