The night outside feels so loud in its silence,
I listen wearily, retracing old faces in my mind,
Ghosts of laughter echo through hollow corridors,
Their voices worn thin by the passage of time,
Each memory arrives like a hesitant visitor,
Knocking softly where sleep once stood guard,
And I sit beneath the weight of their shadows,
Counting the distance between what was and what remains.
Behind the Doors of Sleep
The full moon overhead gazes down like a great pale eye,
I lay, eyes open, wishing I was lost in the land of dreams,
Instead, I find myself trapped within an awakened mind,
Alone, and without comfort, I try to unlock the doors of sleep,
Every uneasy cough pushes me a step away from serenity,
The world is dark, still and warm outside my open window,
It is now 4am, the time for lucid dreaming has past,
The doorway to the world of dreams remains unreachable,
I adjust my position, bedsheets entangle my feet,
My neck aches, and my body groans with digestive intent,
As the great moon above casts its pale eye downward,
An aircraft laden with sleepers, cuts through the silent sky,
My mind only craves sleep, I can feel the doorway approaching,
I write to drift off, hoping that the doors of sleep will open soon,
My weary eyes are the keys that unlock the realm of dreams,
May the doors of sleep slam closed behind me,
So that I can awaken again in the light of the new morning sun.
Dan Verkys 