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I find myself perplexed as I
Sit in the dark, transfixed, a glow
Taps at my door, but I just sigh
As I forlornly read some Poe.
I feel though I might go insane!
I cannot sleep, perhaps warm milk will
Do the trick. Oh, the bane
Of my existence and of Rilke.
How though can I justify
Pretending to be wholly clueless
When I know the light is nigh
As I ponder upon Lewis.
Cogito ergo sum--I think,
But maybe life's endlessly looping
Like a ring René might shrink
As I vanish to a world by Tolkien.
But if the sleepless have a curse
I’d never want to just hide mine
For, relatively it’s no worse
Than the one that plagued the man Einstein.
And as I write in sleepless haze
Of ghosts that roam through stars so wary,
I think if God brought them in phase
Would they credit Roddenberry?
And visions it seems have risen from lands
So far away. But it seems you all
Are close to me when my conscience commands
Me to love as a certain Frankl.
Oh my, oh my, it must be so,
That the midnight hours tease so cruelly
But indeed, that stirring laptop glow
Tells now a story by, yes, yours truly.
-J Winterfeldt