rest, in peace

Sleep Comes Down

will death come like sleep?

the eyes, drugged
the breath, shallow
the limbs, heavy

the body susceptible to the slightest chill
from a breeze through an open window
where a soul rushes out from
to meet its maker?
to mix with all matter?
to discount religions?

the mind suspending electrical impulses
like lights going off in a skyline building
but not before

last thoughts rushing then slowing
into the coming black

their embers
burning fragmented moments
into dreams
become real

and if sleep comes down
and never awakes,
who will remember
everything?

if nothing else,
in death,

in that final
soporific quiescence

the world,
quiet at last