Want of Sleep…by G. Mramor


With hands raised let the stars fall on snowy heads, fore they come with no want but want of sleep; and if the young man should raise his eyes, why do you beat him? And if the young woman should reach for life, why do you hate her?

The old should know their place, and the young should follow the given pace. Those ways that lie away are not for fast feet, they are not for you. Now go with hurry, the time is near.

Monday moves like all days, and Friday night lights, we cannot help but say now that all lights are lies. What is revealed and concealed in light, we should have known that Friday leads to Monday again, and that it is power which controls the light.

So here I am, Mother. Here I am, Father. I see that brother and sister have already arrived, so it must be time for work again.

%d bloggers like this: