The Sage sleeps for a whole weekend

In a world of dreams, where wisdom lay,
An old Sage slept for a weekend’s stay,
Beneath the stars, in a moonlit haze,
He found his rest, in a tranquil daze.


His hair of silver, his eyes so bright,
He journeyed far through the realms of night,
An ancient soul, with tales untold,
In slumber’s embrace, his spirit strolled.


With each soft breath, he’d drift away,
To lands where time had lost its sway,
Visions danced, in colours rare,
As he slumbered, free from care.


In dreams, he met The Sages of yore,
Exchanged insights from shore to shore,
Their wisdom pooled, like rivers wide,
In the tapestry of dreams, they’d confide.

He wandered through forests thick and green,
With creatures unknown, yet serene,
They shared their secrets, ancient and true,
With the sage who listened, as they withdrew.


Upon a mountaintop, he climbed so high,
Where eagles soared in the boundless sky,
They taught him of visions far and wide,
Of perspectives that no man could hide.


Through deserts vast, he’d stroll and tread,
Where the sands whispered stories, it’s said,
The secrets of time, they’d slowly unfold,
To the wise old Sage, so kind and bold.


When the weekend’s end drew nigh,
He stirred from slumber, with a sigh,
A smile played upon his lips,
As he recalled the wondrous trips.


He woke with newfound clarity,
Carrying dreams of worlds so free,
The Sage’s heart, now light and brave,
With memories of the dreams he gave.


The weekend’s rest had made him whole,
With wisdom gained from his dreamy stroll,
And as he rose from his peaceful bed,
He knew his soul had been truly fed.