The Restless Mind
The moon, a silent, watchful sphere,
Observes a world that's fast asleep.
And in this quiet, lonely fear,
My restless thoughts begin to creep.
The popcorned ceiling, a vast, pale sea,
A bumpy map of what I'm not.
I long for what the world can be,
A place where consciousness is shot.
I close my eyes, and try to find,
A path to where the dreaming lies.
But pictures flood my weary mind,
The waking world behind my eyes.
The window shows the silent street,
Each house a box of hidden dreams.
I want to join that slow retreat,
And drift away on silent streams.
My body pleads, my spirit sighs,
For peace to wash this anxious dread.
To shut the world out from my eyes,
And find the comfort of my bed.
The final prize, the sweet release,
The quiet rest I cannot keep.
To find a moment of true peace,
To finally fall into a deep... sleep.
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