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Sleep Sleep


*Illustration reference: "Sleeping Woman" by Anton Ebert


Sleep, sleep, your conscience begs

One cannot scribe when down to dregs

Like vessel that needs to be filled

Spent soil once a season tilled

Eventually can serve no more

Till well-replenished are their stores

So snuff the candle burnt to wick

Close manuscript that’s grown too thick

Place quill in well, cap bottled ink

Dull raptness that makes one hard think

Oblivion is state you seek

Slow climb stairs that in comfort creak

Your stamina, like thread unspooled

Seeks respite between layers cooled

Let downy pillow cradle head

That knows words worthy will be said

As rested mind sets its intent

Assured its riches are well spent!

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