Seen

when the night
opens its darkened door
to dreaming

and the stars
fold over on themselves
to pour down

and the moon
swims a gleaming backstroke
over cloud caps

what seas fill
your sleeping eyes
and bring

forgotten things remembered
things never known
comfortable to be seen

in the soft flashes
and luminous tears
of sleeping memory —

watch how they
scatter at the bright sound
of the gates of dawn

and lose themselves in
the dissipating fog
of waking