Gentle Death And Sleep

Each night of sleep is long and more oft deep, Sunrise is short and bitter all to sweet. That every king, Has sought to keep and while dreaming Know to well. Yes we fear each night will be the last, And face each night not knowing what it brings. Dreaming that we ride the growing wave of time, That brings us back to our familiar shore. Lip's that move no more our tongue can't speak, And words we did not write we cannot read. Mighty is the eight none yet can bend and see behind A future not yet made. Never growing old, The future out of reach and relived in all our pasts. Gentle death is not to kind to those afraid to live, Who never loved while once alive while but a host.