If you lie awake at night
you must consider it your responsibility
to observe the stillness around you
as if it were a grand experiment
upon which the survival of mankind depended.
You must not deny your anger
at not being able to sleep,
then listen to the silence
as if it were a voice about to speak
in tongues about the coming light.
As for your anxiety,
you must allow it free reign inside your soul,
conceding your choice in the matter:
fear of entering the darkness’s water,
fear of waking before you’re out.
Without pen or paper,
you must watch the time pass infinitely slow
beside your bed,
as if it were stuck in a temporal jam,
the seconds creeping by,
and when the sun finally rises,
redefining your tiredness,
you must awake like everyone else
and face the day.