Sleep eludes this stricken soul
as prettily wrapped death,
escapes the weary
Nay, for lying so still as one lacking breath,
searching for darkened hearts to fill the depths,
Void, as the empty ticking of stopped clocks,
hour glasses with nary a care for counting,
having traded sand for eternity
The search of the weary for unattainable rest and reassurance of eternity's kiss,
waits with slit smiles for the restless ******.