From The Morning Poem by Verus Sanguine

Comatose I lie,
Sure to rest a thousand years;
No voice could ever wake me
But that of the gong of time.
Dazed and dead I rise,
Recounting spurious dreams;
I bow my head to new life
And languidly close my eyes.
Inch by inch I crawl,
Creeping toward the chariot
And though I pray for motion,
I won't arrive 'til nightfall.
Lo, the gates are nigh!
'I've come to plead forgiveness! '
My lord who spends his soul speaks,
'I'll hear nothing of these lies.'