Wake...
Sleep.

Weariness calls for,
bizarre,
behavior.

Who would ever choose to sleep unless they had to…?
(Being so close to death?)
And yet
weariness calls.
Dreary eyelids pressed
by dreary labor.

(“No rest for the weary!”)

And yet
here we are.
Restlessness awakened by
dream filled slumber.
Sleep…
Caught by the fancy passing
of a mind unhinged.
Un-invoked…
Un-invited…

The passing fancy of a mind
unrequited and full of distant shores.

Lands

far

removed

from

the…

dreary labor.

And yet,
there we find the fancy:
passing the dreary laborers,
whose passing fancy,
is to dream of a…
distant shore.

Dreary eyelids…
Right before sleep, too,
visits their door.