Some sleepless nights
Are born of pain, anxiety, regret
Others still are born of joy
Of activities performed with others
A few more are random
Sleep merely evaded, missed or passed
Wispy and unattainable
As a Wight or ghost is not corporeal
Sleep merely ceases to exist
On those nights I often choose
Caressed by the peaceful, painful embrace of solitude
To take a walk among the trees
And listen to their whispers
If you have never stopped
Chosen to converse
You might be unsurprised
By how little the forest offers
However; like peering through a telescope
Towards a seemingly dark portion of the universe
In that silence
One may find audio more brilliant
More sensational and emotional
With more depth and motion
Then even the most brilliant of songsmiths may produce
Profound in it’s simplicity
The rush of wind, the brush of grass, the trickle of unseen water
The creaking of insects, and the whining of marsupials in the distance
Incomprehensible on its surface
Rarely, very rarely it comes together
The disjointed life existing simultaneously
An orchestra emerges from the background
And for a grand moment you feel yourself to be a part of it
The crunch underfoot
The rustle of your clothes
The gentle whooshing of the air escaping your lungs
For a brief moment you are connected
Linked up directly to life
To the fact you are alive, the world is alive
You feel it rushing through your veins
Adrenaline peaks
Goosebumps rise
And then you are alone again
In the deep dark woods
And you begin the trek home
YOU ARE READING
poetic mistakes
Poetryjust my musings Feel free to leave comments or whatever but don't expect me to do anything about it. This is just a place I put what I write
