When Your Day Has Ended

A sleepless night creeps from in the dark Despite the soothing grasp of linen sheets The mind will turn to journeys of black art Coins for Styx chill you as the reaper greets Shadows dance on walls from somber blazes And soon the path in front of you will blur Lost in a cryptic path of black mazes A primal fear from deep inside will stir At last your tired mind begins to ease And softer things obscure your tainted thoughts The grasp of linen sheets no longer tease And gates appear, with edges golden wrought After a while your sight begins to end As your body hangs newly limp in bed