Sleep of the Faerie Queen

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Her dreams infuse us all and the many worlds around her ...

The Faerie Queen, enfolded by her magic,

Slept a sleep not bound by time or space,

Dreams, coalescing, intersecting,

Tesselating, tesseracting,

Stringed and touching all dimensions,

Her eyes like stars,

Milky white and blue,

Looked far beyond

Mere corporeal horizon,

Hopped from star to star

In this world and the next,

Watched bright burning stars

White hot and yellow,

Burn out like candles,

Their mass consumed,

Heavy swollen remnants,

Smouldering echoes

Tinged red like blood,

That yearned with sorrow

For the Dark.

It was the dark that drove and fired,

The insterstitial soul within

That lived half in and out

Of this world and the many nexts.

Yet despite the panoramic

Interdimensional splendour of her regard,

The frenzied madness of despair

Her words could wring

From mortal sorrow sung shriven souls,

It was the taste of his young lips,

On a green grassed bank

Beneath the warm caress

Of summer sun,

Lips fresh like fruit,

His life, seven score years or less,

Flickering firefly-like

For an instant

In the dark timeless passage

Of her immortal existence,

That resonated most

Deep within the depths

Of that endless dream.

© Greg Richards

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