It almost seems unnatural
to wake at this time
as quietness embraces the earth,
darkness engulfs and swallows
everything around me.
Precious sleep eludes me
and I try to optimize the event:
I can write.
I can read.
I can meditate.
But regardless of my Pollyanna virtue
of seeing the greatness in these hours,
I cannot find comfort
alone in a bed,
fighting with blankets
and a thousand pillows
that fill the emptiness of my sighs,
bringing frustration and anxiety
into a place I refuse to reside.
Sleep has become a lost lover
full of sweet fainted memories
that haunt the nighttime.
What can I do
when all I want
is to travel into the Land of Deep Slumber
hibernating into hallucinations
that make me so very, very, very happy?