The Sleepless Sounds Of Wind, So Sound Asleep Poem by Orin MSH

The sleepless sounds of winds, so sound asleep
In dreamless dark, the stupor, wounding our voice
The poet throws his lament upon the deep
Gushing through cracks and sounds the miscreants

Without the calming trees, whose endless joys
Strike the beguiled and show what's apparent

Dull thudding of the drab soulless machines
Grant me before my death one final dream
What we among the stars have never known
The purity of love, the warm embrace
To stare at last, astounded at His Face
From dim dark hallways of uncertainties
The poet lulls the world with fantasies

That we alone gaze at the sprightly stars
An endless spectacle from where we are
The secret standpoint was there all along
Beguiling us with such mellifluous song
Unfading beauty lasts millennium long
The Sylvan chants; from sleep now all awake
With pangs of being; the pricks of numbing aches
Are dumb desires for vain Poesy's sake

Some strange disease that turns all living black
Such remedies, a cure we often lack
Strange wars are waged with naught but sticks and stones
Its angst and horrors fueled with loveless bones
And should the world bring us this gentle ease?
From such dull opiate to find release
And fade away along with soothing breeze

The windless sounds of dreams shall never sleep
A vision most absurd that angels weep
And this aberrant fancy we shall keep

If all our sleeps should have one sound
This should be it, and it would befit
Our dream's circumference it goes wildly around
Until is found the boundaries in snow and sleet.


Orin Marlais Keats,28th July 2022