Sleep and Dreams

Sleep so precious, so delicious
When it begins no one knows;
Not like an edge of a table,
No sharp turn from awake to out.
Then wading in a lake,
A dark lake, thick and curdled,
Lasting for no sooner than
The shadowy veil is torn and
The scenes are unreeled on
Dreams, the alternate universe
Of insanity unhinged,
Of longings satisfied.
Every night, dreams tell us: live.
Telling us, I may still turn true.
Beckoning us, every night,
To die and live again.