There are two kinds of rest, two pines in a forest
of crestfallen trees and dreams' fallen leaves.
These evergreens bleed these much needed seeds we seek;
I beseech, underneath these trees, which of their seeds
succeeds in superseding weeds.

Now there’s Sleep and there’s Peace,
and the tree that’s known as Sleep
believes in reaching towards headboards and sheets,
while the tree that’s known as Peace
believes in teaching support that’s born in feet.

There is no mystery that Sleep is the tallest tree,
it’s agreed and uncontested, although I suggest this:
when storms threaten your existence
with persistent gusts of never-ending questions
descending from remnants of a Heaven once believed in,

that you decide to seek shelter with Peace.

Now Peace is not likely to be the tree we begin
to seek until we see that Sleep becomes nothing
when it comes to lightning strikes acting
on attraction; the fact is that Sleep is attractive,
but lightning’s actions distract us from doubts in clouds attacking.

There is also fact in that while lightning acts on bias,
what we find is that violence is not confined to Sleep.
What this means is that Peace, the smallest tree,
also receives the same treatment that Sleep receives
when wind speeds exceed the capabilities of sanity.

Now, there’s Sleep and there’s Peace,
and neither tree can easily guarantee that we will reach
the end we seek. Though, I am reminded of the lightning blindness
we find in Sleep, and the fact that the taller the tree,
the more likely it is to fall when demons breathe,

so I decide to seek shelter with Peace, and in my feet.