Shadows circle my eyes Their half-moon crescents a forceful sign. Sleep is a requisite of the mind. The gentle dream-state The flutter of eyelids. The anaphoric rhyme scheme Of dialetic poets. No real rhythm No actual scheme No sense of hymn A silent dream. A floating cloud Cloaked in mist. A flying shroud Its gentle hiss. A dragon gleaming Its length alight Its flow so slow In the dim candlelight. The spider's web gleams with dew Its host spun anew. Prey struggling to be free Snatched up in ...