Sleep Is A Ghost Rider
by Dave Rhodes
Have you ever wondered why it's so easy
to fall asleep on the trail?
The reason is: Sleep is a ghost rider
and he is always on your tail.
He lives out on the road
waiting for the herds to come by,
then he jumps on behind the saddles
of cowboys who resist his cry.
Like the Devil, he tempts you
as he whispers lies in your ear:
"Just close your eyes for an instant,"
or, "You deserve a little nap right here."
There are those the ghost rider claims easy
and others not so quick to give in
who pay the price of agonizing torture,
holding to the false conviction they'll win.
Seems like it is not very long,
whenever I set out on a ride,
till the fight against the demon begins
and erupts as a raging battle inside!
An occurrence that can be real scary
is when I fight sleep to the bitter end
and just before the war is lost
behold the strange visions my mind will send:
I have seen canyon walls that change
into tall buildings down a city street,
or the old alkaline desert so flat
become a raging ocean with a British fleet;
Desert bushes will dance and sing
like Indian braves around a fire,
a rabbit is a charging buffalo
and rocks on the hill are a church choir!
I have been on rides when time is lost
and the direction traveled is unknown
as I drift along . . . sound asleep,
dreaming of a soft bed at home;
No agony on earth will compare
to the realization of where you really are,
especially when it's not even close
to your dream of comfort that's carried you afar.
One time on a drive to
I stopped to rest my bones at mid-day,
the ride had out-numbered sleep ten-to-one,
still, a moment's rest and time to be on my way.
Fighting temptation to linger I went to mount,
put my foot in the stirrup to climb on
but, woke up an hour later in the same position,
thanked the horse for his patience . . . and moved
along.
If it wasn't so far between places
out here in this new western land
we wouldn't stretch our abilities to the limit,
or try things normal people couldn't understand.
Like everything else, sleep has its time
and we who refuse it create a monster
that haunts from behind on the night ride,
or turns our thoughts into flukes of nature.
To survive, I rely on a truth that gets me through
(which is kept in a place in my mind that's deep),
"The reward of honest rest will eventually come
and when it does it will be pure, sweet, undefiled
sleep."
Copyright 1999 David E. Rhodes