As unfathomable as the ages
So is the quiet of sleep
A suspension of consciousness
A time for bodily repose
Gifted to mankind
A rest from till and toil
As mysterious as the galaxies
So is the quiet of sleep
Copyright 2017- Vivian Zems
Tonight at dVerse poets, Frank is hosting and the prompt is Sleep.
Smell The Coffee 
September 28, 2017 at 8:44 pm
That kind of sleep is indeed a gift. Lovely poem Viv.
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September 28, 2017 at 9:07 pm
Like the one I’m about to have. Thanks, Paul!
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September 28, 2017 at 9:12 pm
Enjoy.
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September 28, 2017 at 9:13 pm
1 more hour and I’m out!
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September 28, 2017 at 8:56 pm
Sleep does seem to have quiet, mystery and unfathomable qualities about it. It is amazing that we do it at all.
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September 28, 2017 at 9:08 pm
A thing of mercy that we do. Thanks , Frank. Good hosting.
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September 28, 2017 at 8:57 pm
So beautifully described, so difficult to achieve … at least from my standpoint as an inveterate night-prowler.
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September 28, 2017 at 9:09 pm
Thanks Bev, try Horlicks😊
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September 28, 2017 at 9:00 pm
The last time I slept like that was in 1983. These nights my “sleep” is full of sound & fury, signifying nothing, part sci-fi/part fantasy, where too often I find myself naked in public looking for a restroom.
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September 28, 2017 at 9:12 pm
😂😂😂 words fail me!
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September 28, 2017 at 9:13 pm
Sleep is mysterious, especially sleep with dreams.
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September 28, 2017 at 9:15 pm
Always… thanks, Jane ☺
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September 28, 2017 at 9:17 pm
🙂
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September 28, 2017 at 9:20 pm
I would love to have a sleep like that… it’s way to rare these days…
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September 28, 2017 at 9:43 pm
A very peaceful sleep.
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September 28, 2017 at 10:30 pm
‘Tis a grand mystery and you’ve captured it well!
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September 29, 2017 at 12:02 am
“A rest from till and toil
As mysterious as the galaxies”
I love that.
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September 29, 2017 at 12:15 am
Thank you !
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September 29, 2017 at 7:08 am
Your poem reminds of Shakespeare, Viv:
‘Sleep that knits up the ravell’d sleave of care, the death of each day’s life, sore labour’s bath, balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course, chief nourisher in life’s feast.’ From Macbeth, Act II, Scene 2.
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September 29, 2017 at 7:26 am
Thanks, Kim. He put it beautifully.
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October 2, 2017 at 12:00 pm
“A rest from till and toil,” You have a gift for putting just the right words in a line and no more. Very nice!
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October 2, 2017 at 2:44 pm
Thank you😊 However, I can only dream of catching up to a wordsmith such as yourself!
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October 2, 2017 at 3:03 pm
I think you underestimate your skills!
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October 2, 2017 at 3:06 pm
You’re too kind☺. By the way- your name is a tongue twister😮 What do I call you?
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October 2, 2017 at 3:13 pm
Nosaint is fine!
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October 2, 2017 at 3:34 pm
Ok , Nosaint 😊
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