Sleep
SLEEP
Death's dress rehearsal.
Our nightly practice for the end
A compromise to darkness
while we wait for morning's light
The world in all its beauty
then breaks upon our sight
And we partake in living
as our senses reel again
We hear the droning distance
Breathe the freshness in the air
Heady fragrance of the blossoms
Feel the bustle everywhere
How can the final sleep be endless slumber,
If in rehearsal, it was all, to wait for light ?
Beyond an unknown realm
in that first dawning
What great wonder will we wake to?
What delight ?
Suzanne Delaney
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