The noise of silence comes for the weary,
A lullaby for the restless soul.
Some say sleep is for the wicked,
But wicked is sleep for it often escapes us all.

I dream to sink into darkness that warms me,
Cold is the light of the windows of the earth.
To find comfort in the void that envelopes me,
the lightness of being, rid of the heaviness of the world.

But the day will break before my peace,
And a piece breaks within my mind.
While the pandemonium of life slowly creeps back in,
And alas, sleep has gracefully made its escape again.


Written by s i r and r m b