To Sleep
Sleep's suspended awareness as nothingness reigns.
It's when bedding is mussed and disheveled is hair.
It's a welcome escape, anesthetic for pains,
And a physical must--time for rest and repair.
Sleep's a snooze or repose, nodding off, or a doze.
It is hitting the sack, forty winks, or some Z's.
It's an alternate state when a beating heart slows,
What insomniacs lack, and when minds are at ease.
Sleep is shuteye or slumber by lullabies urged,
A mysterious void wherein memories hide.
It's a brief hibernation with senses submerged
And is comfort enjoyed as your worries subside.
Sleep is suddenly waking to frustrated feel
When a blissful dream broken, you cannot resume.
Or the happy discovery a nightmare's not real
When from terror awoken, you're safe in your room.
Sleep is unscheduled flashes and fantasy flights
When you Morpheus meet to subconscious explore.
It's when buried by blankets on long wintry nights,
You begin while still drowsy to walk, talk, or snore.
Sleep is darkness and solitude while yet alive,
Is induced by a yawn, and seduced counting sheep,
Souls resurface from sleep when at birth they arrive;
And for all who have gone, now eternal is sleep.
Copyright © Richard Thomas | Year Posted 2019
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