The night descends and carries me away.
The darkness comes extinguishing the day
and then the pillow on my bed conforms
to certain contours of my head. I leave
the world behind and join another place
so different from a usual day’s unfolding.
How it is with you I do not know
but surely off to slumber land you go.

We may or may not dream in this departure.
We may resist its entree, or we may
yield, a respite from quotidian demands.
But we share it with the human race.
The harbors of our sleeping vary widely —
for some it’s mansions — others, beneath a bridge.
But all of us must yield — must give ourselves
to darkness, fleeing what we’ve made of time
and often finding peace and restoration.

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