Hypnos

I was asleep, and dreaming;
I was asleep and dreaming I was asleep,
and dreaming Sleep had come to tell me this…

“My mother and father gave me this power,
with my night-dark hair of braided cloud,

that in darkness, by my father’s gift,
not my mother’s sightless black,

lets the mortal soul rest through the night,
and memory quicken, without forgetfulness.

It is my hand brushes away the soil of day
without it covering you like a grave.”

© BH, 2024

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I wrestled with sleep - the idea - the mythology. I think that was because of something I’d stumbled on in cyberspace - an invitation to write about the Greek pantheon or some such.

To be honest, I found the tonalities of Olympian speech a bit grandiose. So I watered it down and watered it down. finally this was all that remained. It seemed to be the essence of something. A tiny totem chiselled from a gigantic stone.