Blue-white glow seeps....
illumination, uninvited, creeps.
The work pushed through,
the doubts, the clarity that won't last.
The day already gone
that lasted so long.
But the hour that belongs to no one,
shadows bring along
the urgency..... for what?
The slumber. The rest.
Insomnia, ruined by the living in stride.
The weight of eyelids, dead in spite.
Dim.
The world reduced to a room.
Many days have ended the same, work being forced, desire pushed forward with the quiet belief that there will be a time later, a time not now. Thoughts feel urgent, as if they demand to be settled immediately, even though they never are. I tell myself I will rest with nothing in mind, that I will be able to read a book I actually like, return to the things I loved doing as a kid, but these promises surface only at this hour, when the body is exhausted and the mind starts bargaining. Endless slumber waits ahead, imagined as relief, as closure, and for that imagined rest, I work, night after night.
Hope you read this at night,
for I wrote it at night.
Two darknesses meeting
across some unnamed time
yours and mine,
the same blue-white glow,
the same uninvited light.
If you like to read poetry, you can check my other posts. If this does not resonate, I assure something will.
Notes from This Week (Poem)
