Sleep

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    Sleep

    sleep comes over me in waves

    billowy, shadow-laden waves

    the color of the sky

                at dusk

    figures dancing in the dark

    dancing in the dark

    in the dark world i enter

    as i search effortlessly for sleep

    flushing out the restlessness

                of my mind      

    easing away the need to think

                or feel anything but

    sleep – which floats over me

                in luscious, fluffy waves

    beckoning me to step into,

    merge into

    another world – the world of one

                who falls

    recklessly to sleep

                not as a means of escape

    no, not to escape

    but for the sheer and certain

                pleasure

    of being enveloped in the

    sweet

    peaceful arms of

    sleep.


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    In science one tries to tell people, in such a way as to be understood by everyone, something that no one ever knew before. But in poetry, it's the exact opposite.

    Franz Kafka (1883-1924) Czech writer.

    Sodade’s Poems (10)

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