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Insomniac
A short poem...
Insomniac At night while others sleep he sees whole galaxies of stars wheel and turn across indigo meadows of sky and hears the sounds of night convey a thousand stories. Thoughts, useless as comets trail across his inner void whole worlds are born, expire. Racked by an unrelenting wakefulness he twists and turns, a crucifixion gawks at night unraveling through a skylight window. Cats yowl; a drunk clatters bottles shouts his rage into the dark; far off a single church bell gong. Lying in his solemn bed at dawn he sees the sky grow pale hears the bellbird's single noted, plaintive morning song. – Jogyata.
Back to: Jogyata's Poetry Index.
