Are you sometimes so tired that you cannot sleep, though you could weep for sleep? To be far beyond the edge of the ability to fall away, fall from consciousness, into a blissful grace... into unawareness? Sleep is release.

Morgan lays sleeping; how innocent and peaceful sleep makes us appear. I watch her; jealousy gnaws at my edges. Years ago, I used to wake her, hating the utter isolation of insomnia, hating her carelessness. Now, her peace is a solace.

To sleep is to waste life; not to sleep is agony.