Every so often as the thought of death begins to loom

I feel my being, being swiftly and utterly consumed

By the state of endless sleep that occurs within my tomb

Do dreams occur?

Or will it be that dreamless sleep that so many others often times endure?

Such a gift it is, eyes closed your mind is dancing in the dark

So many other souls seem to be at a stand still -

Frightened to fall apart

You see everyone sleeps but few of us dream

and even fewer have the heart to chase them after our eyes

open to the morning suns first gleam

So few have the heart to do these things

So for us to dream after our hearts last beat seems,

Rather obscene