There is the other world of sleep
where such mute expression is,
simple, shallow—but distant, deep.
It is profound and grand enough for itself;
beautiful, and beautiful without a single doubt
and yet miserable for one reason—
though profound in its depth, it wants to get out.
It wants to speak to you.
There are details to its dreams,
nuances and perplexities
where the hues and rain cover up what it means
and it can’t say
whether sleep is for sleep
or for you, staring, in the sane day.