Day 4 - Miles to Go

Sure, it's another sleep poem. Sometimes I get stuck on thoughts. It's a phase. Until I get some rest. Ok, to bed. This is something. Or other.

Some Dreams May Come

If I was lacking a bed
I would learn to sleep standing,
to sleep sitting, to eat with sleep,
to shower and snore, to move
my world into the unconscious.
How much time saved
to steer my dreams into the mundane.
A slept life would shield me
from seeing judgment, seeing inequality.
All passers could be wearing heads of friends,
all traffic could be ocean static.
My days would stay an easy manner,
my clothes would settle into simpleness,
pullovers, Velcro and slippers, jumpsuits.
I could sleep past all unpleasant.
Know no war.
No age to feel in my structure.
And one day the dream would shake
would blur, the sky would gong
with a loud heart, and I would know.
As loved ones appeared and echoes left,
I would turn to say goodbye and trip
into nothing, into forever, into a bright oblivion,
into the dream I waited for all my waking life.