12 Midnight

Now the master sleeps
Leaving you some of his poems
Now it is midnight
Now the master has to sleep
Take care yourselves
Take care of his poems
They are now yours,
All his disciples
The master sleeps.

Now, see, how the master breathes
Listen to the rhythm of his sighs
Some poems are coming out from
His nostrils some poems are coming out
From his mouth and ears

The master poet is asleep
Even in dreams he weaves some images
Dreamy, surreal, ephemeral, his sleep
Has rhyme & rhythm, he is a soul breathing

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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