-- At the Edge of Sleep --

By John Herlihy

The luxury of sleep comes

In fits and starts.

Always there at the edges

Never to linger or last.

Frayed edges they are at that,

Momentary and brief.

To offer some condolence,

But little relief.

Always there as a danger,

The luxury turns sour.

As you lay there wide awake,

Hour by hour.

I lay there prone,

Thinking, wondering.

The mind wanders off,

Into fields of imagining.

I see dandelions seeds,

In the wind fleeting.

I see dust motes as silhouettes,

In the light gleaming.

To swim thru the sea,

On feathered fins.

To ride wild thru the waves,

On the back of dolphins

I climb back over sleep’s horizon,

For one last look.

The day has closed down,

As a page in a book.

At the edges of sleep’s oblivion,

I am not afraid.

Every night I lay in this luxury,

With day’s duty paid.

In the back of my mind lies

A firm resolve.

To surrender to sleep, but awaken,

Life’s puzzle to solve.

Random thoughts to pin down,

Hoping they will stay.

But they have no consequence

And simply float away.

Everything and nothing take on

Fleeting importance now.

Images and desires turn into dreams

In a netherworld somehow.

What seems like eternity passes by,

in dream journeys that seek.

Lost moments that never feel real,

In the dark cave of sleep.

Sleep survives in a rugged landscape

Of thousands of years.

Filled with the cries of ancient souls

In shadows and tears.

In slumber to bear witness

To death and rebirth.

An eternal cycle that we experience

Here on earth.

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(c) John Herlihy 3 October 2018