Sleep

The evening hangs beneath the moon.

A silver thread on darken dune.

With closing eyes and resting head

I know that sleep is coming soon.

.

Upon my pillow safe in bed,

A thousand pictures filled my head.

I cannot sleep,

My mind's aflight

And yet my limbs seemed made of lead.

.

If there are noises in the night.

A frightening shadow.

Flickering light.

As I surrendered my mind to sleep,

Where clouds of dreams give second sight.

.

What dreams may come both dark and deep,

Of flying wings and soaring leap,

As I surrender my mind to sleep.

Sleep...

.

.

-Eric Whitacre