Sleep is upon us.

Sleep is upon us.

Are we to be defined

By our dreams

Do they make of us

What we are

Not just in living

But in dreaming

As we toss and turn

Whirl in

Their maelstrom

Are swept

Into a steep blind

Fall endlessly down.

And then wait

Barely aware.

Where less in haste

We but hesitate

In oppressive shadow

Vasilate in

Hollow

Echoed alleys

That expand and contract

Eating their way

Through the gloom.

And we fly

Soar easily

For just a moment

Until heavy legs

Drag us slowly

Down to

A deepening chill

That gnaws the bones

And we are

Caught in

An impulsive,

Warming drift .

Unexpectedly

Old dreams

Float before us

As we languish

In comfort

Nestle in the folds

Of slumber

And rest a while.

At peace

With our heartbeat

Until the once softly

Gentle

Downy pillow

That has sought

To cushion

Our weary bones

Begins to tear and bite.

Shredding our

Hope of safety

As a reckless

Wind strains and blows,

Flavoured with hate

Blended with avarice,

Hard rain,

Begins to fall.

With brittle needles,

So sharp

They cut through

Soft tissue

Like a finely

Honed razor

And we are cast

Into the void.

With little memory

Of the past

Reaching for something

We fear to have lost

Never certain

What it might be

Or how much we fear

Its return

But ever hopeful

We will know

It when it is found.

And pray we will

Want to keep it

Safe and secret

Until

The whiles of sleep

Once more return.