sleep

All people are children when they sleep.
there’s no war, no war of thoughts…

They open their hands and breathe-
in that quiet rhythm heaven has given them.
They pucker their lips like small children
and open their hands halfway,

soldiers and statesmen, servants and masters.

The stars stand guard
and a haze veils the sky,

a few hours of silent bliss…..

If only it had a language
our hearts like half-open flowers.
Words would be a melody
to gently drift in.

May be someday….

I will learn the language of sleep..