Acquainted With The Night

I wish I could tell you that I enjoy this week as much as a little kid enjoy his days in the playground. But that feeling never came all week, and thus blogging my thoughts away was the last thing to do as I was terribly uninspired to write anything. What is wrong with me?

Times like these I'd be dangerously close to being a recluse and end up spending the night reading. That's right, just reading or playing the guitar.

And it's ironic that in my quiet moments too, the listlessness in me will be at its most dizzying heights, that sleep itself will be the only panacea.

But lately sleep has not been uninterrupted for me. Many times, and I don't know why, I stir up at about 4am, and in those few seconds of consciousness feel compel to perform the night prayer. Unfortunately I always end up defeated by 'subtle persuasions.'

I'm leaving you with these first 3 lines from a poem by Robert Frost. If you like Frost, good for you. For me these lines are my sleeping pills to bliss.

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain - and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.