There is nothing more precious than sleep,
Nothing rarer, or more expensive,
And when you are poor and sleep deprived,
You stumble and grope for the way.

The day is long. The sun too bright.
The mouth is drawn, no appetite
Comes to urge you on to pursue
Most anything, least of all the things
You've really wanted.

Prayers undaunted, fly up as bees
To sting the gods, to hear the pleas
Of the weary.

That one might lie down in the night
And give up all else til the morning light comes
And sleep the deep sleep of a thousand glorious deaths
And lives to come.
Then take it all back in the morning sun
And run, forgetting all the pain
And the desperate bargains you made
With the great bread provider,
And taking back all your sorrows again
And labors, and wake to war with your neighbors all day long
And lie awake all night again
And worry.

-jenn