The Sleeping Magician

11 o’clock and all is well.

No-one is awake to try and tell.

In their deepest sleep they gently dwell.

Under a magicians magical spell.

And so the sleep in gentle dreams.

That night is day or so it seems.

In slumbered realms, of dancing moonbeams.

Where they, sleep the sleep, of a thousand years.

And yet , there is only peace.

Where once there was fear.

Laughter takes the place, of sorrow’s tears.

And worry is buried in a decadent past.

For they have no care’s.

Life in dreamland is a wondrous affair.

And so they sleep and stare.

With eyes wide open they are linked and share.

The gladness of each emotion.

The warmth of one and others devotion.

So who is this magician with such power.

That he give’s so freely his slumbers shower.

For the gift he has given is free of will.

 And still!

There is no question.

Just an abundant expression.

That grace’s the pathway of all who follow.

Who open their hearts and discard the shallow.

Side of mankind for it is only deep souls that dwell.

Under the slumber spell.

Of the sleeping magician