To sleep, perchance to dream

Sometimes
oblivion falls softly,
on a feather matress,
the void.

Sometimes
colors, images and shapes,
meanings messages
and actions mesh
morphing
from the mundane and known
into rivetting shows.

Such total trust
on Morpheus ,
the brother of Charon,
the small death,
each time
the head rests on the pillow,
demanding resurection
in the morn

Brothers
and door keepers,
both,
to portals of adventure
and rest.