Into rose petals and goose down
I have nothing to offer
But thanks and appreciations
With love like an orchard
I rest in the holiest ground
Neither wealthy man nor pauper
In sleep I will celebrate creation
“King Sleep was father of a thousand sons – indeed a tribe – and of them all, the one he chose was Morpheus, who had such skill in miming any human form at will. No other Dream (Oneiro, Morpheus’ brother) can match his artistry in counterfeiting men: their voice, their gait, their face – their moods; and, too, he imitates their dress precisely and the words they use most frequently. But he mimes only men…” Ovid
