What are the intricacies of sleep;
where does it begin and end;
is it a form of consciousness, deep;
or is it reality’s friend?
They claim our bodies require rest;
but, I never seem to get very much;
reality makes the bird’s favorite nest;
but dreams will do, in a clutch.
Death’s a more perfect form of sleep;
one, which, some think, has no end;
many pray, “My soul to keep”;
but soul is an eternal energy blend.
A soul is the spin off, of eternal power;
the legitimate child of the King;
displaying beauty of a petal of a flower;
an eagle, in flight, taking wing.
A soul is the droplet of morning dew;
a hint of the sunset, each day;
encapsulating life; that He will renew;
a curtain, coming down on the play.
A dream is the plan of the Masterful One;
each actor, within it, has a role;
dreams are rivers where life was begun;
the ocean, is the destiny of the soul.
Death is the vestibule of life’s stage;
eternal life, requires no breath;
for a season, all actors, will engage;
and play out their roles of death.