insomnia

insomnia

what is it about these wee hours
the time heaven is closest to earth
where stations of uncertainty
beckon us to thought?

what mighty outpouring of creation
swirls its decree about our souls
calling all force
to imagination?

where is sleep in all of this,
if not a dream?

behold the exquisite beauty of nothingness
uncomplicate yourself
want nothing

close your eyes

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