You cannot hear me and cannot see me
But always I am there.
I always stalk you and always count the hours of the day.
Wake me when the sun arises and I will go back on my way.
You'll never run fast enough for I'll always have you in my embrace.

(In reply to re: Another guess by Vernon Lewis)

I think Penny's answer is more on point but we do have the lines from Macbeath: Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleeve 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.

So sleep is in some sense a form of death, I guess.

Posted by Richard on 2006-02-13 02:25:30