I surrendered to the shafts of Sleep
which bright Pain could not penetrate;
blissful numbing of the mind.
Curtains rose before the screen
of all that I could not have seen
in Daylight’s house of misery.
Inside the lampshade, yawned of light,
a moth flick-flickered, petrified,
stuck in the bowl, a haven once
the throne of Light The Deity,
assured that, in bliss, it was free,
more trapped now that the thrill is gone.
Inside my head surfed reddened clouds
and showers of dust-sprinkled stars,
for I was safe in Innocence
until my guest removed his hand
and deigned to leave the shadow land
now that his bliss was won.
