October 2, 2015

Rosetta


The numbers
on my bedside clock
stand out in the night,
lighting the way
to my dreams—
hieroglyphs,
in a language
I barely understand,
full of ancient lore,
guardians of the secrets
of my sleep.
Without their glow,
I could not see at all,
would be forever lost
in the night,
unable to read
the Rosetta Stone of yore,
written beyond life,
in the dark,
where I have been
so many times,
before.