When the cold, dark chasm suddenly spills warmth,
When the heavy tread of mankind eases and sways,
And the strong trunks of life dissolve and suspend us,
That’s when day turns to night.

That same chasm we fight through our consciousness,
We succumb to and welcome with grateful arms.
A temporary death filled with vivid and blurred dreams,
Arrives when day turns to night.

As our eyes grow heavy with the persistent light,
The sun sets over the shallow hills, turning greens to yellows,
Yellows to blues, and then blues to blacks,
And finally day to night.

Wrapped in innocence, warmth, and safety, I cherish
The undeniable necessity of sleep, the darkness that seals my eyes,
And the wonderful sinking feeling that comes
Long after day turns to night.

The creative compulsions that spur our existence
Flee to the sky, decorating the night with stars,
Galaxies fill with our relentless thoughts,
And our souls wander the sky.

Nighttime prayers furnish midnight answers,
Time slows, freezes in the warmth of our blood,
And our hopes and wishes skyrocket beyond our reach,
Guiding our souls that wander the sky.

The lull of the world embraces the woe-bearing creature,
All else turns to dust--the troubles and triumphs,
Our loves and our losses--we leave it all behind
While our souls wander the sky.

Starving artists resist it, the struggling writer denies it,
With bloodshot eyes, they avoid the most necessary vice,
Yet I welcome sleep, I yearn
To let my soul wander the sky.

Finally, as the daytime engulfs the great, dark chasm,
We recoil when morning rings and crashes through our skulls,
Our souls plummet, and sleep deserts us,
Leaving us to wander the Earth once more.