The Beauty of Sleep

Written by Dave Winnyk on 5/1/2022

The Beauty of Sleep

I love the feeling of sleep

The beautiful high when first waking

And falling in and out of a morning rest.

I don’t think I’ll sleep when I’m dead.

To sleep is to rest

To rest is to restore

In death there is no restoration.

I feel my sleep

I dream my dreams

But in death there are no feelings or dreams

There is nothing much better to me

Than laying cuddled with a loved one

In the bliss of a morning where there is nothing to do

When the mind is not reeling

When the body’s not doing

This is the human animal

Enjoying its form and companionship

No goals

No desires

Only present sensations welcome.

There is nothing much more relaxing to me

Than sprawling on a bed or chair

Feeling the support of its frame

Letting my body know it can let go.

It has done its job

The muscles can loose their grip on the bones

The cartiledge can uncompress

The ligaments cease their stretching.

And like the body

The brain too.

I can let it go,

Off into the confines of anothers

Or into the limitless drift of my own.

Sometimes it is like I am without one.

Feels like I’m staring out from inside a corpse.

Or a mannequin.

Maybe I have returned from a run

Or have smoked too many drugs.

My body is too heavy to move

My nerves seem to fail me.

I think about picking up my arm

Or twisting my hips

Or shaking my legs

But I am trapped in the grips of comfort

To close my eyes and succomb to it is inevitable for me.

I love the sweet seduction of its warm dripping pool

I swim and luxerate in its bath knowing I’ll return to the shore.

Will I one day dip my head and find it deeper than I could ever know?

Diving down and down

Sinking beneath sleep into a creeping decay?


But I imagine it will be much dryer in death.

The pool and the shore will be drained

Me too.

Drained of anything and everything.

I hope this drain leads to some reservoir

Some basin where I can be recycled

Or even to reside there

In the depths of eternity.

But I do not think the drain goes anywhere.

More like erasure than evaporation.

I hope nature has in store for us

What it does with the raindrops

To take my trip from the sky to the earth

To wash across the land

Into the sea

And to be called up again

To enjoy the fall once more.