I skitter cross time's restless bones in search of sleep's access,
Discomfiture not fate or man but "restless legs" (1) confess.
An accidental drug (2) does treat if I do not forget,
It calms legs down that trouble sleep, of course, desired and yet,
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This poem reminds me of a quote by Epicurus that Death does not concern us, because as long as we exist, death is not here and when it does come, we no longer exist. It is sad when we come see that all these back and forth shall be brought to end by a click of death's mouse. Regardless of how we see life, or even death, we are not sure of our tomorrow and this thought is enough to keep us humble. But there is hope, because one door closes, another opens. As one dies, another is born!