04-05-2012, 02:19 PM
When I realised death is absolute,
like the sky or my untidy hair,
my body shook with dark wonder,
as the notion of a dreamless sleep,
always unbroken, spread across the wall,
a large rain cloud. I was ten or eleven
and scared, but warm in my bed,
the sheets held close.
I don't remember if I slept.
Years of sparring with despair,
based on this reality,
that all which feels must one day not,
has led to musings, after all,
that maybe sleep is wonderful.
We lie in bed for years on years,
not once disturbed by mummy's hand,
bringing with it school and chores,
nor the alarm clock's android dirge,
worshipping the square office.
Rather, like a pleasant host,
the universe allows its guests
a very long lie-in.
like the sky or my untidy hair,
my body shook with dark wonder,
as the notion of a dreamless sleep,
always unbroken, spread across the wall,
a large rain cloud. I was ten or eleven
and scared, but warm in my bed,
the sheets held close.
I don't remember if I slept.
Years of sparring with despair,
based on this reality,
that all which feels must one day not,
has led to musings, after all,
that maybe sleep is wonderful.
We lie in bed for years on years,
not once disturbed by mummy's hand,
bringing with it school and chores,
nor the alarm clock's android dirge,
worshipping the square office.
Rather, like a pleasant host,
the universe allows its guests
a very long lie-in.
"We believe that we invent symbols. The truth is that they invent us; we are their creatures, shaped by their hard, defining edges." - Gene Wolfe