I cannot sleep. I cannot rest.
My thoughts descend in circles deep.
The melody falls on my brain, until this page with ink I stain.
Each thought is like a spider web
Waiting to snare me if it can.
But I am armed with pen and ink. At least some thoughts I’ll try to link.
At first the chain is cheap and frail,
With weakened links and rusty clasps.
The more I’ll write the more I’ll see, and then my mind will soon break free.
By the end I hope to have
A cable strong yet beautiful,
To climb as I fall back asleep, and dream to heights so very steep.
originally written on Friday, August 12, 2011 at 9:32pm