I’m sleeping better than I’ve done
At any point throughout my life,
Although my race is almost run
And rumours of my death are rife.

These days, though, nothing brings me down;
I can’t get lower than the floor.
And, though the queen of night might frown,
That’s nothing that I can’t ignore.

And yet it isn’t that I’m numb;
I’ve never been this much alive.
And, even if my death should come,
That which I am would still survive.

I flourish in a barren field,
And none can sap my ample yield.

Photo by Taras Kots on Unsplash

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