The Kingdom of Siesta

San Cassimally
The Story Hall
Published in
2 min readSep 29, 2018
Siesta floats on the rainbow

Siesta is a kingdom, a state of mind beneath a drab ceiling with fake stucco

where I wallow on my couch in the afternoon looking for answers, for inspiration

Perchance a little snooze.

Siesta takes possession of my mind, takes my hand, tugs it gently

begs me to explore dangerous regions, to question a prioris

I need no opium for Siesta fills me with a higher drug.

Siesta is a kingdom floating on a rainbow

A fish lazily swimming in the tepid waters of my dreams

Siesta cuts my dreams into a thousand pieces and challenges me to re-assemble them

Makes me, who accepts Darwin, question not the fact of evolution, but the How of it

A thousand and one visits to Siesta have not answered the most important question:

I can accept that life was formed spontaneously, from elementary particles

but what made the blob grow legs?

What caused thought to appear? Where does Love come in?

Siesta sings to me the verses I yearn to hear.

Stuck for what a character in my Dreamworld is about to do or say, Siesta whispers it to me.

Locked outside yearning for a rhyme or a line, Siesta brings her lips (for Siesta is a She) to my ears and whispers the key.

Siesta has the power of absorbing Grief, of making Disappointment appear insignificant.

Lorelei tries to lure you into Insomnia when you’re lost in the fog

Beware for Insomnia is her evil twin.

Insomnia magnifies your fears, your anger, rubs salt on your wounds

Not Siesta. In Siesta you can buy a soothing balm in any Souk

Siesta is made up of a thousand wishes and dreams, the ones I hold secret in my heart.

Siesta is where the great wheel of the afternoon Sun turns round and lulls you.

Siesta is my secret garden, an escape, a place where anything can happen, where there are no limits on my imagination,

a place to be free in the wild wind and fly beyond Time.

Siesta is where all my inner warriors come home, lay down their swords, plough the fields into bright green terraces,

plant grapes, and sing long epic poems of travels and victories.

Let no one enter my Siesta, for you cannot go there

if you have no visa

And only I have the stamp.

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San Cassimally
The Story Hall

Prizewinning playwright. Mathematician. Teacher. Professional Siesta addict.