Appetite of Dreams
by Odin Roark

It is known by many names,
This force that sleeps by day,
Resolving unsettled rumblings by night.

Often buried in crumpled sheets and pillow,
Some listen carefully,
Others flutter eyelids restlessly,
Unsettled in sleep’s unadorned nakedness.

REM discloses what delta can only imagine
And theta deems precarious,
As those unable to see in daytime’s blinding light,
Shut their eyes to see the illuminati of darkness.

Painters,
Composers,
Poets,
Know tranquility’s opacity needs not sleep,
Embracing instead the rasp of a file,
Honing vibration into melodious colors,
Where pencil
Brush
Baton
Provide illumination
The famished imagination envelopes.

Dreams of such careful tasting,
Minute chewing,
Allow yesterday’s slow digestion
To reveal sustenance once filling
Now but appetizers.

Such is the preparation,
Rendering anew a sometimes famished palate
For tomorrows appetite,
For imagination yet to savor,
Where satiation awaits such discovery.