An ancient piece of writing - early poetry.
I pray tonight I’ll find some peaceful sleep
amidst the thoughts that lurch and creep.
Instead, lie awake, alone at night,
To yet again face the morning light.
No beauty in a dawn seen through weary eyes;
Again there’ll be no compromise.
A sleepless night, the unsteady beat
of a heart that fears the nightmare’s seat.
The heartbeat shouts from its confining space –
flowing out quickly in an irregular pace.
Why, you ask, do I feel this way?
And long to see the light of day –
come creeping, seeping into the room
when the echoes of sleep have refused to bloom.
Shadows of the night crawl, as I lie awake;
watching them restlessly; see what they create:
A tall dark figure, with a knife in his hand –
the thoughts wander, now, it’s blood trickling like sand
From the knife that’s fallen to the floor;
a shadow of rustling leaves rushing to the door.
The seconds are hours, the minutes are years,
time seems eternal when all of my fears
Amplify and horrify the sleepless night
and faces of death grow to threaten my life.
Sounds come crawling along the wall,
to drown the shouts of my echoing call.
For help, for mercy - why do I resist?
The nights without sleep - why do they persist?
When will sleep ever come?
Or will death end the daybreak’s sun?
(First penned in 1983. A long time ago.) It seems some sentiments come and go, then come again.