May nothing and no-one be a cage to you
while you sleep or when you wake –
not sleep itself, not dark, not light, not fear
not any of us sitting out here
hoping you will fall and settle like a feather
into sleep, not needing our eloquence
to convince, our cunning to outwit you.
May your journey through dreams
be that of a young hero, uprighting himself
after each fall, not suspecting yet
the dragons behind rocks, nor the power
he carries in that small casket
slung across his breast – containing sorrow,
love and hope, magically concentrated.
May you hear through your sleep
the birds at dawn, but not be woken by them.
Their songs, like their flight, connect
earth with air, air with water, but cannot
express the fourth quadrant, fire.
The rising sun lighting their wings is fire,
bringing warmth, and the beginning of shadow.
From shaken wings, a bright dew falls.