The Slumbering Flame
"And the orange blossom perfumes the air,"
A fleeting grace, wrapped in folds of fire.
"She walks in beauty, like the night,"
Yet in her stillness, the day conspires.
"Time, that old common arbitrator,"
Slows to a whisper beneath her lids.
*"I am half-sick of shadows," she dreams,
Yet the golden sun forever bids.
"Let me sleep among the murmuring pines,"
Where sea-winds cradle her in lullabies.
"To lie in the amber shadows' glow,"
Unfolding secrets the earth denies.
"O sleep, it is a gentle thing,"
This cloak of peace, a transient thread.
"The heart forgets its sorrow and ache,"
As she dances with the soft hues of dread.
"But time, the subtle thief of youth,"
Rests beside her, a quiet hand.
"Dreaming of a thousand islands fair,"
Her slumber flows to a timeless land.
"What is this life, if full of care?"
An eternal pause in her amber flame.
"Awake, arise, or be forever fallen,"
Still the dream weaves a golden frame.
"Let her golden hair stream out,"
As if kissed by a burning sun.
"Her shadow on the moonlit sea,"
Speaks of battles lost, yet battles won.
"The soul that rises with us is our life’s star,"
And slumber lends her its guiding chart.
"Nothing ever dies, but forms anew,"
In the restless amber of her heart.
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