Sleepless Slumber

The moon, a silent voyeur in the pane, Watches my stillness yet I writhe in vain. A paradox unfolds, a weary plight, Engaged in slumber yet devoid of night. My body lies, a landscape soft and deep, Where breath still stirs and secrets softly sleep. But in the skull, a restless buzzing hive, Where thoughts like frantic insects stay alive. I chase the phantom edges of a dream, A fleeting glimpse, a barely whispered theme. But consciousness, a stubborn watchful guard, Keeps vigil fierce against sleep's sweet reward. The weight of silence presses on my ears, Amplifying anxieties and fears. Each tick of clock, a hammer on the soul, Expanding moments taking their cruel toll. The world outside, a hushed and slumbering sphere, While I, a lone inhabitant, am here. Trapped in this twilight neither here nor there, A prisoner of wakefulness and empty air. Is this a penance for the day's harsh light? A reckoning enacted in the night? The mind unspooling threads of what has been, And weaving worries for what lies within. The longing for oblivion's soft embrace, A sanctuary in this desolate space. To let the currents of the mind subside, And drift away upon a peaceful tide. But still I lie within this silent war, A sleepless slumber knocking at the door, A cruel deception, rest that will not come, Leaving me weary 'til the morning's drum. What fragile balance holds this state in sway? Where body rests but spirit cannot stray? This living limbo where the hours creep slow, A thoughtful torment that the sleepless know. ©bfa040825