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The day recedes, a canvas bruised with light,
 shadows lengthen ushering in the night.
A gentle sigh escapes, a weary breath,
A yielding to the quiet touch of death...
Not final darkness but a soft release,
A temporary truce, a fragile peace.

The world outside still hums a distant tune,
But here, within, a deeper quiet soon
Will settle in, a balm upon the frayed,
The tangled thoughts the waking hours made.

To let the burdens of the daylight cease,
The striving heart surrenders to its peace.
To shed the roles, the masks we daily wear,
And find the primal self beyond all care.

What mysteries unfold in slumber's keep?
What landscapes form in valleys dark and deep?
The subconscious stirs, a cryptic fluid stream,
Where fractured memories coalesce and gleam.

Are dreams mere echoes of the day gone by?
Or glimpses of a truth that cannot lie?
A hidden language that the spirit knows,
Unburdened by the logic that life shows.

This nightly journey brief and yet profound,
A dipping in the silence all around.
A chance to mend the fabric torn and thin,
To gather strength before the day begins again.

To trust the darkness, let the senses fade,
To enter realms where new beginnings are made.
A letting go, a sweet and soft descent,
Into the void where weary spirits went.

And in that void a strange renewal lies,
A cleansing touch beneath unseeing eyes.
So when the stars their silent vigil keep,
May slumber deep, a thoughtful solace, creep.
A good night's sleep, a blessing pure and true,
A preparation for the world anew.

©bfa040825

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