Four syllables, eight letters,
It is insomnia, the guard who blocks the gate,
At the golden doorway to the land of Nod,
That world we are privileged to visit each night,
Every dream we can enter this world,
But I cannot because Insomnia bars me,
And he points the Spear of Thought at me,
That spear which I cannot get past,
And he says "Thou shalt not dream,"
"Because thou must think and lay in waking."
"But why?" I cry in despair,
Coveting the gates, not gold but pearl,
With lapiz lazuli pillars sparkling in the moonlight,
And Insomnia snarls,
And he says "How dare you talk back to me!"
And so he pushes me back into my bed,
Where I toss and turn,
Then I see the light of day again,
And I curse Insomnia, for I am awake and broken,
Unready to face the day,
For I still covet entry to that land of Nod.