1.
When the world is asleep except for me
And the sky an untouched coloring book page
And the coming days
Words too small to read
And the wind gusts are songs I forget
I’ve sung to you but your dreams
Remind me, like branches by a window, then
In the bed of my soul two bodies stir.
When the world is asleep except for me
Peace and terror trade their limbs and fiercely wait
2.
Being dead, I’m a book no one has read.
My name neither stone nor bread.
What I remember cannot be changed.
Though a wreath of angels
Dance in circles round my head they ought
To know better. The past is taut,
The future loose and harrowing as a hive
Cracked open, that’s being alive.
Translations from the English 
“Being dead, I’m a book no one has read.” WOW, that really hit me! Love this poem, Jeff, and wonderful to read your work again!
Thank you, Lynne! That’s a line I woke up with in the middle of the night, alone in the dark, sat with it for a moment then wrote it down, knowing it didn’t need my help; I just needed to find the rest of the poem.
Well, the rest of the poem is wonderfully thought-provoking! Love those middle of the night disturbances!
I feel this deeply, not sure if what it means to me is what you meant, but it weaves a story that is both sad and hopeful, happy new year Jeff
Happy New Year! and thank you for being here to read it. It’s all of those things to me, too. With a squeeze of existential terror thrown in.
It keeps us on our toes