You've always been ready.

You’re too big now baby, too big for me to carry in. And I don’t want to wake you up either…I think I’ll recline here and observe your dreaming body to pass the time. Tightly clutching the seatbelt around your waist, you murmur several secrets over the next few minutes…but I haven’t seen you this still and calmed in weeks. How does sleep reduce giants to mere babes, and monsters to delicate nymph-like creatures who demand nothing more than your occasional glances and whispered praises? What is this demon, sleep? This angel that overtakes every soul in the night? You stir slightly, like the song of your dreams is transitioning from the verse to the final chorus. Your palpitant hands…they act as if they’re chasing after a being outside of this realm, like they’re catching a voice or taking on a battered warrior. Absolutely nothing in me wants to waken your reality-deadened body to light, but I think you’re ready. You’ve always been ready.