Jack Burns Lives!

To Sleep

Bathed in sunlight, I start to slip away.
Into that realm just before sleep, a sort
of semi-consciousness, a restful place
between here and there where strange, random
images and thoughts seemingly appear out of
nowhere. You’re not thinking; they’re just
there, like clouds floating in the October wind.

As I drift away in the warm sun, I find myself
within a shower of resplendent death. Set in
motion by gentle winds, death reveals itself
cloaked in yellow, red and brown, drifting slowly
to the ground from whence life came.

This is beauty. The beauty of Keats, Wordsworth
and Clare. It’s beyond my ability to fully
comprehend. I try to grasp it but cannot. It’s
beyond me yet totally within me. It envelops me;
I humbly rejoice in its magnificent presence.

It’s my honor and pleasure to defend it, to speak
for it. The mighty oak towering above me, the
solitary jumping spider sailing in the wind, the
soil beneath my feet. I am one with all.

Into deep sleep, now I pass, safe and sound with beauty
all around.