Sarabella's Slumber

Hush, Hush, Hear the midnight rush,

Here where candles flicker and flush;

Crackling, and reddening, into a blush,

Where they gather and collect our ears

To fill the silence of this lantern dome;
Drifting on a dreamscape throne

Through cavalries of stars,

To where the moon has flown.

This is Sarabella’s sacred sleep,

In drifting flocks of cloudlike-sheep;

Or Sheep-like clouds, like midnight shrouds,

That pour onto the sunken ground

The magic that our dreams have reaped.

As the moon does weep, to take her higher,

To timeless lands of full desire,

Where her eyes dare feel the fire

To fill this dome with breaths of air,

And ripple through her silken hair;

To plant an answer in her ear,

That all which she has dreamt, is here.

Upwards, upwards, and away,

From the centre where she lay,

To fly on winged lantern feathers

Washed in visionary weather,

To sail forever on the seabed of her dreams.

To the pearl of what she sees;

Until the dreamlike bubble bursts,

And slumbers rumble into the day,

Where the light is washed away;

Where Sallabella rises, and reality demises;

Fading to a shade of grey.