Sleep the dance of death

 

 

 

Of a truth did the ancients counsel

He that knoweth not death

Should consider sleep

 

Sleep is the image of death

It is the dance of man with the Grim Reaper

Whose outcome is to none revealed

 

Sleep is death ensampled

The mirror image of mortality

Sleep is assurance in forfeiture

 

Sleep bargains with death

It is the visitation of man with uncertainty

Who knows if death will pardon sleep

 

Sleep is an entanglement with death

Whom he prefers he assigns the gift of dawn

And to himself remaineth the time

 

Sleep is a tryst with death

Blissful encounter with the thief of life

All partake who the end can guess

 

Sleep is death clothed in pretence

Mockingbird unto life

Till he is by the Fowler ensnared

 

Sleep with death communes

And somewhere twixt the pleasant and the dreadful

Exemptions are decreed athwart explanation

 

Sleep is the test death assigns to all

Preparation for the final embrace

Awareness undressed and clothed no more

 

Sleep is like a long rope unfurled

One end tugged by death

The other by man unwound

  

Sleep fears not the face of man

Nor doth he have respect to the sorrow of woman

Sleep is disciple only to death

 

Sleep and death dance back and forth

Till one is by the other wearied

His music ceases and is heard no more

 

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