Sleeping Child

Ancient, anonymous, powerful
Ancestors from the past
Show themselves through
The skin of my child
So pale the blue rivers of his veins
Can be seen
Like floes under ice packs.

Come to the surface little one
Morning is come darkly
Midnight blue, moon black
And yet here it is and
Time full here to be up and doing.

So still and quiet expression is inside too
Face is at rest
Wake awake
Be alive to the day
To hope
To daydream
To laugh
Then your spirit is on your face
But now
Its inside
Deep
And your face floats on the stream of sleep
Drifting, bobbing
In the tide of unconsciousness.


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