A Poem by Lance Sheridan

night into day/goodnight till the morning sun

night into day

him¦

innumerable stars written in light

i often dream that the night is more alive

as it walks down the sky with darkness in its hand

and what I take from it I add to my days¯

silently, one-by-one from its twilight meadows

i cannot walk through the suburbs of solitude 

without reverencing the night

for it helps to banish the logic of humanity¯

to them never a time yet but seemed far duller than the day

how long will the night continue to window their pain

dreams reflected in the day but not in the night

blackened illustrations nonetheless, sleeping while awake¯

second course – the death of reasons, ordinarily observed

in the night – insomnia, a symptom of deprivation

filled with paradoxes – they sheep flock to it with reluctance

the repose of my night, my dreams, my sleep – do not belong to it¯

it does not possess me, it is not my soul’s keeper

yet it does not boast of freedom

it walks down an inoffensive path removing all obstructions

in a world of my own, a good night’s sleep is the best oblivion¯

a new day twists the arm of the night and bades it farewell

like a weary pilgrim, it unlatches the dawn

and it chases away the darkness and the weary worn

everything takes a breath of the morning air, but not to ‘err is human’¯

for in the morning dew, the little things in life are awakened…

goodnight till the morning sun

she¦

walking upon white sands

imprisoned by thoughts and narrow walls

that hold no comfort within right now¯

walking beneath the sun

yes warm

but feel embraced by the coldness¯

as hands touch loneliness

down on hands and knees i go

to touch the warmth once more¯

but through clouds of smoke

i search for you

and the sun¯

oh hear my voice upon the ocean

within your dreams

till the morning sun appears¯

and as sunshine warms your face

open your eyes in joy

and know my thoughts are with you¯

but for now i am walking

walking upon white sands

imprisoned by narrow walls¯

thoughts hold no comfort

as I walk beneath the sun

upon white sands within a dream¯

as I say goodnight though

my heart belongs to you

till the morning sun¯

 

 

 

Lance Sheridan is a published author-Bits and Pieces to Ponder; published poet - in an anthology; have been writing poetry since 2002. Website: 

http://deadheadingpoet.wordpress.com/ *read the 'About' page. Poet Interview on November 8, 2012 by a Salisbury University Journalism Major.