Joakim Bergen

Sleep

Sleep, come

With thy somber entourage of shadows.

Lull me gently, kiss me true

I wish to never wake

Nor escape thy hands, so cruel,

For what is life

If not a sleepwalker’s dream,

That stillness usurps

With moments of clarity.

Man hath been blessed,

Yet, denying sleep

Man labors, toils for promised reward;

That when he’s through

His are the Night’s stars.

But lo, man, thy vigor withers

And thy strength decays.

Upon thy altar of life

Flowers bloom, but do not stay.

Life is fleeting, a promised lie

And sleep’s truth most cruel

Yet a truth we must upkeep.

So lull the world

Into slumber deep,

So that we may,

At behest of God,

Remain true and virgin

As we part.