a death worth living

people sleep 

in beds

in graves 

laid down by death's sweet glave 

and when the songbird spreads its wings 

some will wake when morning sings 

but others still will slumber on 

despite the threat of coming dawn 

and when our hearts are laid to rest 

we'll meet again in sweetest death

 to laugh, to love, to sing, to keep 

the things we lose when we sleep