The Night

So tired, so fundamentally lacking in sleep, so needing it for the heavily-pressing demands on me, my mind, and my time and my ability to use all of that with aplomb.

But something happens to me at night, as it starts to approach midnight. The night gives me freedom, space to breathe, to create, to write, to read, to exist in the palace of my internal world that I have built and lavishly adorned with utmost care and painstaking, year after year, day after day, moment after moment.

That, and, sleep frightens me for the bridge it is to the morning I wake up in. The weight of it.