Quite peaceful rejuvenating slumber,
A minds requirement of the body,
Filled with dreams we try to remember,
But our memories are a bit shoddy.
Yet each and every night,
We take for granted our nightly past time.
We delay our rest with all our might.
Skipping our siesta should be a crime.
Little by little, as we grow older,
We begin to fear the final closure,
When the light in our eyes no longer smoulder.
We fear our final demise for sure.
When we finally slip from this realm
And submerge ourselves in the grave,
Will we still be at the helm?
Will there be anything left to save?
Will we dream as we do at present,
Or slip into a pitch black, soundless nothingness,
To await the coming of he who must return?
Is this life we have now meaningless?
Deep down a fear does manifest.
When we sleep are we not actually dead?
That what we perceive as living is but a test?
I must be insane in the head!
Let me rather embrace my pillow
And sink my head into its comfy softness.
To travel my dreams high and low.
Let me slip from this world of madness.