My Insomnia

Pacing, pacing…

In slumber I inhale quiet dreams, The flat face of these waters Ebbing to and fro like a sober tide,

Until again they pound the shore, Slap the sand, With a yanking undertow, Exposing jagged rocks That stab me awake.

I get up and pace, Trying to calm these waters With reason,

But they have their own moods, Darting between the whims of the moon And the wild winds, They choose their own direction.

Lying down, I let the angry water’s wave, Washing over me Until they have had their way.