Deep sleep, the easiest form of respite,
An escape through a door leading to nowhere;
Stepping ever so gently into the dark night,
Stepping over the boundaries of the faint light,
Crossing silently into the dark, dank earth,
Snuffing out the dreams, desires of heart's hearth.
Sleep, so peaceful are the flesh and the soul,
All the perfect features calm, unlined and whole -
Not ruffled by the strong pull of passing time,
Un-ruined by emotions that plague our prime;
Serene is the state of the shell that clothed the soul,
Spared the blows rained upon us by emotion's maul.
Sitting silently by the chilly Spring breezes,
Lone table, lush greens, a few bottles of boozes;
The soft rustle of whispering tree leaves,
Sweeping shadows across the scorched pastures;
The Sun overhead riding astride the silver linings -
So, totally, your kind of settings.
Nostalgic ambience, dated atmosphere, vintage,
They are all dead shells with beautiful advantages;
Your footfalls, your imprints, your pulsating energy
Taking over these stages; all part of your play.
Just don't play dead, you may play anything but,
Anything else would be the perfect tourniquet.
Deep sleep, and you chose to play that role,
The role of sleeping eternally in the cold;
To be immune to the sights and sounds that
Once upon a time held some weight.
You chose to wake up only when we shut our eyes,
Hiding in obscure fragments of our memories.
Sound sleep, soundless realms behold you now,
Held firmly away from us like a precious escrow;
Thrusted into the parallel paths against this world,
Taking with you a piece of my very own soul.
Oh do you still dream? Dream what you may,
And shine bright in the dark, just like the ray.
copyright © thearcticstar 2015. All Rights Reserved. No part of this work may be republished without the author's consent.