The Bed

You know at night
your bed
is simply utilitarian

You lay there ready
for the day to end
and sleep to begin
your mind racing . . .

Nothing special
not particularly serene
just the passing of time
or your lustful desires

But what if a bed
was more than a bed?
If instead of restless slumber
you stole a nap!
And fed your soul

Feeling cool soft sheets underneath
drifting off drearily to blissful sleep
letting the world fade away
for just one moment
in the middle of the day

A nap is unlike any other sleep
it's borrowed or taken, not expected to be
a getaway of sorts
with no specific agenda

A nap steals time
but gives you so much more in return
renewed, alive
dreams realized and remembered

How often do we sleep
in a bed incomplete
from a day still left to earn
some gratitude or perhaps
some scorn

Bleary should we be
each night
as life carries us
down that twisted river
never knowing what's around the next bend

But if we reserve too much until the end
we cannot fathom or even comprehend
all that we could have been

Little known in old age only it seems
of youthful vigor or what it means
how sad the young who waste their days
not knowing life is only temporary

But yay to those who wisely reach their bed
wearied and famished
having lived
a full day instead

How strange it is we are born
we rest
and we die in bed
for a coffin is nothing but an eternal resting place

What we do with our waking hours
in between
is all that counts
or so it seems

And someday when we're gone
and either long or short forgotten
it's the naps we'll wish we'd had more of
and not the restless bed of nights forgotten

So do not take each day as easy as you can
rush foolishly, forcefully ahead until the end
how noble and great it is to finish
each day worn
having known you did all you could

And relinquish yourself not to tarry
in your solemn bed
but rather fall exhausted

Until the end.