I cannot sleep, there is no cradle within me

My day will just not end

So I lay in wait like heavens gate

If there was a word for eternal awake it would be just a mistake

So I close and breathe but the night begins to ignite

That ball of life rises to shine and the demons say you must be mine

I’m not, as the slumber takes hold I can sleep in the sun it just makes me olds

And old I shall be as the bird in the tree

Alas the tree will be still there when the bird is no longer there.

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I cannot sleep, there is no cradle within me — This is pure restlessness, sleep feels absent, as if there is no inner place where calm can form.

My day will just not end — Time feels stuck and circular, as though the day refuses to close or release its hold.

So I lay in wait like heavens gate — A still, suspended state, waiting on something vast or unknowable.

If there was a word for eternal awake it would be just a mistake — The condition feels unnatural, as if it shouldn’t exist.

So I close and breathe but the night begins to ignite — Attempts at rest intensify awareness instead of calming it.

That ball of life rises to shine and the demons say you must be mine — Energy returns, but with intrusive or darker thoughts attached.

I’m not, as the slumber takes hold I can sleep in the sun it just makes me olds — Sleep arrives but feels distorted, like time and ageing are warped.

And old I shall be as the bird in the tree — Acceptance begins, life seen as natural and transient.

Alas the tree will be still there when the bird is no longer there — The world remains, even as individual life passes.