The Night's Feverish Crusade



The whispers echo in my head,
Like the morsels of the river called disposition,
pulling me down to the riverbed,

 I repose there, in a magnific trance,
body asleep, but an awakened soul,
Like in a mythical Terpsichorian dance,

 The swells build into glorious crests,
I give in to its boundless solstice,
'neath its robust chill, I sweetly rest,

 Jaded I feel, with the night's feverish crusade,
My soul still seems lovingly stuck,
I stroll astray, in a deepening daze........
(c) S.S

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