Lost In Consciousness
I skitter cross time's restless bones in search of sleep's access,
Discomfiture not fate or man but "restless legs" (1) confess.
An accidental drug (2) does treat if I do not forget,
It calms legs down that trouble sleep, of course, desired and yet,
It can't put out the flame that fries one's goal of no duress.
A curious thing sleep is, 'REM' when we dream we're awake,
And not shut down, though sensory, the input all is fake,
Perhaps derived from memories that trouble us it seems,
The repetition seems to help to quiet down our dreams,
We wake to loss, real pain, and joy, expecting the earthquake
Of death may someday end it all. Trust me! Does peace appall?
The older grow to see old age as just another fall,
And winter too suggests to some that spring will come and soon,
One door may close, but what's unseen? Feel free to curse the moon,
But nothing will forestall, I'd guess, the end of large and small!
Brian Johnston
10th of September 2018
Poet's Notes:
(1) Restless leg syndrome is a recently named condition that causes feelings of discomfort in one's legs that make you move your legs in an attempt to get more comfortable. It is like how you might feel if ants were crawling on your legs.
(2) A drug that got developed for other reasons was accidentally discovered to give relief to people suffering from this problem.
Copyright © Brian Johnston | Year Posted 2018
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