Now this morning, I listened to my Lord as he slept. And I whispered to myself, in the sanctity of my own mind, and said, “My dear Lord, last night as you slept, I wept. And beyond these tears, I sat beside you in the garden, beneath the sun, beneath the sky. And while you dozed, I watched the clouds as they passed below. And I felt the cold caress of the breeze upon my skin. And I listened to the soft sighs of your breath. And every time you fell silent, I fell silent, too, and waited, and fretted, and held my breath, and crossed my heart, and wished, and waited, and hoped that you would breathe again, my Lord, my Son, My Emperor In Dreams. And I hold my breath still. And still. And still. As if by withholding my own, I may grant you yours anew.”
So to my Lord do I hand this pen, and place on his chest these scrolls, as I lay him down in his chambers to sleep.