Sleep, sweet Leviathan inside my heart,
Until the day and sun drift apart,
Until cold abandons winter,
Until fire abandons cinder.
Wake not when you hear their screams—
Though it gleams, though it gleams.
Wake not to sound nor to light,
Nor to my long, everlasting fight.
Shield your eyes and cover your ears,
Stay in the deep, stay in the deep.
And on the day that all will be fulfilled,
And you decide to spread your wings,
My heart may flutter, my soul may sink
From the thought of the horror you may bring.
Still, for now don’t wonder or try to ask—
Sleep on this lavender heart and bask,
With dreams you shall only dream alone,
With dreams that only to you are known.
For I’ll keep you still for howevermore,
Until every grain of sand leaves its shore,
Until they burn every piece of coal,
And every man sets free his soul,
And every paper soaked in poetry
Has been forgotten and lost.
For now, sweet Leviathan,
Sleep inside this heart—
Lest all the world fall apart.
This poem is a tender plea to the sleeping forces within us all—forces both magnificent and terrifying—that we hope to keep at bay, at least for now.
