Insomnia

The silhouette moves in the hide and seek of the light and darkness. The sounds become clearer. The water of the tap. The whirling of the fan. The clinking of the windchime. Perfect rhythms, never missing a beat, they make music. I see reflections of my thoughts on pen and paper. I realize and reawaken my soul. I count my mistakes. And blessings. Often I cry over things. Big and small. People. Who left and who didn't. Rarely, I think of reality. Days are for reality. For counting gains and loses. Facing harsh truths. Nights are for dreamers. Dreams you see in deep sleep or with open eyes. Visualizations of the vivid imagination come alive in the darkness. Nights are for losing oneself to ones soul. Hear it speak to you in languages only you understand. Of the universe inside you. Slowly the darkness gives way to light as the stars disappear one by one into an illusion. Even the sky pretends to be a blue facade to hide it's true self in the morning. Now I try to sleep. When the world around me is awake and abuzz.

© Suranya