Deepest Sleep

I confess to finding odd comfort in that special type of sleep,
Where restless minds suddenly wake as the body slips away,
With limbs slack like a puppet’s strings cut, abandoned,
And for a moment you accept that you’re dead,
But no, you breathe, shallow and broken,
And no, you realize, in fits and starts,
I’m simply trapped in my own body,
While darkness holds me down,
Burying me in the Deep,
So I can truly rest.
And think.