My body, she's tired, lamenting true rest
But my mind, she's relentless, and offers no less
Than a breif minute or two in an oblivious state
Then she's racing again, as if late for a date.
This battle, it seems, between flesh and thought
Is implacable in taste, rigidly taut.
Unyielding is this, the desire to shut down
And give in to a rest that is permanently sound.
"Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads." ~Henry David Thoreau