Insomnia

The silence comes suddenly and all is still.
Not a drop of a feather, nor another’s breath can be heard
Except my own. I see the bodies lying there,
Breathing, unconscious, yet silent and still.

I am deprived of this luxury -

My body calls out for it, yearns to have a taste of it:
That which they call the window to another realm.
Yet I fear I am not meant for that world - I cannot dream
In my conscious state, therefore I have none.

I am deprived of this luxury -

And I hear of the tranquiity that washes over
When one closes his eyes and leaves this world
Even just for a moment, to visit another.
I am deprived of this gift, one often taken for granted.

I am deprived of this luxury -

It is the only way to see what is beyond:
To, once again, hold that one I have loved and lost,
To create the illusion that life is perfect -
I am deprived of this luxury.