Sleep on, new world — your time is yet
to come; and in that pall of death, forget
what was, what is, or merely seems,
and build the future from your dreams.

Sleep on, mankind, rebuild your strength;
prostrate, laid on your bed full length,
dream of new heroes still unborn
in slumber’s womb yet safe and warm.

Sleep on, green growth, in winter’s hold;
for soon Spring comes to melt the cold
and bitter snow that buries deep
the germinating soul in sleep.

Sleep on, and dream of things to come,
and rest your weary, busied tongues
replete with words that bite and bruise.
When waking comes, they are no use.

Sleep on, new world, and wake evolved;
for weary, you’ll no problems solve
while you sit restless, bleary-eyed,
consuming yourself from inside.

Sleep on, sleep on in stupor’s gauze,
and from your labors, rest and pause;
the universe will still be here
when you awaken, fresh and clear.

Sleep on, mankind, and stay your hand
from constant schemes and endless plans;
and let what is, and was, and seems
emerge to clarify your dreams.

17 MAY 2004

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