Asleep

such a strange place.

I fell asleep
In middle of the night
Or perhaps it was a day
Feigning of the darkness.

There was a beggar
At my tapped door
Begging for a silver spoon
Or perhaps for a pot of gold.

A limpid long life
Like flow of a river
Descending into the dust
Perhaps in harassed fever.

If I was asleep
Who was the other I?
Cajoling, decreeing
Perhaps a child with a dagger
Or a painted being in swagger.

Days come and go
But the sun without a race
Soulful of its luminosity
In a jocund dark space.

Author's Note

Strange but sane