Sleep

Something I wrote when I was very tired.

I sleep, yet I am tired.
No rest comes for my weary brain.
No rest comes for my weary body.
No rest comes for my weary soul.
If I sleep, it is light.
If I dream, it is prosaic.
I wish to dream my wild dreams again,
To awake filled with scintillating ideas and vivid fantasies
I await their return,
So I can once again arise with the sun, bright and warm.
I think I will sleep now.