Shadows rest....

Shadows Rest ….

Contorted shadows close my eyes,
I await to see what dreams.
As they gently pass my nose,
I try to bite the darkest of seams.

They dance a dance of blackness,
and the end of the tunnel has no night.
It is not strange, how a dream transcends,
all conscious thought, wrong or light.

Who would profit from fulfilling truths,
but a policing jester surely at court.
This dream will only pretend aloof,
and if it fails, it shall soon abort.

Stand, sit, stare, or join this perfection ,
a dream doesn’t care, or fret.
A dream is just a stopover for pictures,
always besting pictures, not seen yet.
 
Raising dark colours onto a fractured deck,
 the sinking ship fears the sea of drowning.
Why should he be called sunken wreck,
when we all know dreams, love clowning.

Chico stands atop his falling down platform,
he always knew, the direction of laugh.
In this idiots circus, dream is the norm,
if not the dream employs, his other staff.

So rest weary shadow the night is at end,
and if fate darkens your door, dream friend….