Another clouded night,
When three o’clock strikes.
I wake to another worry.
There’s too much thinking to slide,
Back into the warm world of dreams,
Of sleep, and unconscious creativity.
But, my arms are too cold,
My legs too hot.
And my brain is ticking with the minutes
Counting down until my life calls.
When reality begins with the sunrise.
Until then, I worry.
I play the scenarios of the unknown.
Relax with conclusions
I pretend that could be real.
Muscles tense in my pajamas
At the unsure fate that might twist
And turn me in a direction I don’t want to walk.
My path is still dark in the night as to where I’m really heading.
But the dawn is calling,
The red numbers warning on the clock,
And I pray to be stupid,
For the last hours of the night,
To not worry and not think.