Sunday, you brought life to me
and wakened me from long-time sleep
then skewered me with mind's hard beat
of cold and fast reality.
Sunday, you sought me in depth,
and captured me before I leapt
from towers steep and high enough
to break this guarded path abrupt.
Sunday, friend, movie and mind,
with beer that cast the current rhyme
and brought together in a dream
unknown, complex and broken seams.
Sunday, now, lost to the whole;
this triple focus carry-o'er;
some deep'ning thought, with more untold:
truth's deep in this complex barred soul.
Sunday, sun and day combined,
you'd think your path be clear to find,
but, in dark, I can't see your lines:
this failed attempt to lead the blind.
Sunday, take me as a whole,
deliver me with sleep retold;
lead me again to restful lull,
which dreams who once awakened stole.
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