Asleep

Ye drooping eye - O! mirror of the night,
The inward cradle of unconscious thought,
While golden day makes way for silver light,
Thy depths are where all wondrous deeds are wrought.

My love is but your babe nourished with care
To placid youth marches in my ageing heart.
To world my verse - my only solemn heir,
Preserves bit of my mind that's been your art.

Why should I seek solace on wakeful earth?
Wherein gazillion woes and endless strife,
I have endured from my wretched birth,
While your sweet trance held real essence of life.

Again I slumber, Love's image to see,
If Death's its dream, I call her to embrace me.

Reviews

[Abdul Aziz]

A very well written sonnet, mate.

The meter is spot on, as it always is with your writes.

"While golden day makes way for silver light" is a very good expression, as I have already discussed with you.

The ambiguity this poem has, lends it an added dimension. Sleep is interchangeable with death here. What is death but eternal sleep? This reads like the final words of a person who's about to die.

Very well done.