Insomniac's Dream

In the cold confines of a once burning bed,
I lay down my weary head.
Willing myself to go to sleep.
I shut my eyes and pray the Lord, my soul to keep...
But He doesn't want it
And neither do you.

A solitary tear trickles off my cheek.

And if I die before I wake....
I pray I do...
I hope my God my soul you take.
I'm tired of crying...
Of trying---
For things in this world I could have only dreamt of;
Like happiness.
Like love.

And at this crossroads of asleep and awake,
I open my eyes at the mourning peal of the church bell.
The dawn of the Sabbath and still no rest did I take.

With watery eyes and a watery spirit,
I lie prone as the pale gold glow floods my chamber.
The fiery orb over the summit,
In stark contrast to this heart
That can no longer soar after the last plummet.

I hold up a blurry hand before my eyes.
Why are you empty?
I ask aloud.
Then I smile,
Curling one hand over the other--
Recalling your strong grip,
I close my eyes again and begin to slip......

My Love, I am coming.

*to my Dear, Merrill.