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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: September 30, 2018

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Submitted: September 30, 2018



My eyes fall shut, the ritual of night

Begins again; Morpheus bids me come

Into his realm of dreams, in which I might

Find you within the mist and bring you from

This place of illusion to waking land.

I see you standing still before two gates:

One of horn, one of ivory; your hand

Meets mine, I smile and look to see the Fates

Above us, weaving threads both long and brief.

Your voice cries forth with beauty and an ache

Which would bring Orpheus to weep in grief;

You vanish through a gate and soon I wake.

I dream of you each night but do not mourn,

For your thread travels through the gate of horn.

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