Tuesday, May 10, 2016

Some days I get so tired
When I sleep even my dreams grow weary
the torment
the wisdom of the inner me
the great telling fades as it starts

So too do brilliant colours bleed into grey
And when I awake my bones ache
On this cold morning I do not light a fire
The minutes precious at the alter of a working life
I am too tired, still
My eyes water as if the smoke has risen
As if the torment is gone
As if I awaken under a sunrise

1 comment:

Brother Ollie said...

I'm so tired of being tired. This poem rings true man.