SIMPLY SLEEP

I'm sitting in bed, white tee and all, soaking up the fact that as of a couple of hours ago, it's July 31st.  When did that happen?  I thought summer just began.  But now I hear its engine revving, ready to speed away into another semester of school and Athens.  I'm ready, but I'm not.  Isn't that the way it always is?  Doesn't everybody just sit and wait for the next stage of their lives to not happen?  Silly, if you think about it.  Almost ironic ... almost.

Anyways, it's 1:25am, and I'm supposed to be up for an eye appointment at 7:30 ... and sleep does not feel soon.  Why does that always happen?  When we need the sleep, it slips away into the night.  Insomnia could explain the world.

But that's not what insomnia's for.

I wonder if people with insomnia feel lucky.  They get to stay awake alone.  I wonder how many insomniacs actually take advantage of that.  I bet I would be a lot more productive if that were the case.  I would be writing all of the time, non-stop.  Except I wouldn't really be able to fully write songs, what with the noise level and all.  I'm rambling.

I just heard the garage open, which means my brother's home.  I'm rarely awake when that happens.

So, I'm thinking ... if sleep won't come to me, I may just have to force myself to sleep.  Wish me luck?

Sleep is a time;

it's a place and space

for dreams

Dream big

and magic happens

And during this time

our innermost thoughts emerge

from the twilight they hide in

Thoughts we didn't even

consider when awake

are now bubbling

to unknown surfaces

During sleep we explore

deep depths of fantastical

ideas

And sometimes,

when we wake up

and can't remember

what happened

during those odd, odd hours,

we realize that we

were just 

simply sleeping.

Goodnight!

No, nevermind.  Another poem, perhaps?

We arrive

and sunlight is still shining,

baking our shoulders and

slowly coloring our hair and

our bodies.

We wait for sounds

unlike those that surround us now.

We shift in our seats 

every so often,

blaming and cursing companies for 

choosing uncomfortable plastics.

Where is the band?

Where is the music?

Where are those sounds?

We wait.

And every so often

the people on stage

get yelled at.

Where is the band?

And finally,

we forget about the troubles.

The first act has arrived.

We trade seats.

Can you see okay?

Yes, can you? Yes.

We wait.

Plug in, check 1, 2, 3.

Testing, testing.

Hey, everybody!

Finally.

And the music moves

through air molecules

and strikes the people

in the pit so much

that their whole bodies 

dance.

And it hits us hard.

We're up, out of plastic

seats and our feet

are shifting and

our bodies swaying

to beats and heads

bobbing and then,

smiles emerge.

The light is fading,

but the music just won't

leave. We dance.

We can still feel it now.

The pulses.  The rhythm.

And we'll wait for it

to come again.

We'll wait.

Okay, now I know I need sleep.

Goodnight again (and for real this time)!

XoXo,

rubycherrie