It isn’t that I’m sleeping more
Than in my restless youth
When I considered sleep a bore
And out of line with truth.
I still awake at three o’clock
Or, sometimes, even two
And board the first ship leaving dock
And sail the pre-dawn through.
But now I’m glad when I can sleep
And know that, at its core,
There lies a valley that’s so deep
That no one’s seen its floor.
Yet that’s the place where truth resides;
What else could join the valleysides?
Photo by Peter Secan on Unsplash
