Lost in Thought

Sometimes, my mind refuses to rest with the rest of me. As you probably guessed, I am writing this after 3:00 a.m.. I stole down from my bedroom, on little cat feet, to tap away the wee hours of the morning awash in the pale illumination of my computer monitor. My body, fatigued from days of fighting with a recalcitrant rash, seeks the soft abandon of dreamless sleep. My mind, though over-tired and over-stimulated, is racing in neutral -- its engine roaring -- going nowhere, fast.

After I retired, looking for rest, my mind would not find peace. Epic stories, illustrated with fantastic images; grand poems, magnificently performed; and glorious music, played by the stars themselves flooded my mind. Cacophony, tsunami, and whirlwind...my inner world was in chaos. Adrift on the deluge, I could not sleep.

So, here I sit, desperately trying to remember anything but the panache and grandeur, lamenting the lost visions, lost in thought, and in need of rest.

Mick

Lost in Thought

Why can't he sleep at three in the morning?
What is the summons that touches his mind,
Super-charging his thoughts without warning,
Leaving all traces of slumber behind?
What stirs an old man's innermost vision,
Scattering images behind his eyes --
Vivid, brilliant, and drawn with precision,
Leaving him helpless, awake, where he lies?
Vaguely disturbing, they won't let him sleep,
These dark dioramas of inner sight,
So, he slips from his room without a peep,
Turns on his computer, and tries to write.
But his magnum opus will not get done:
He cannot remember a single one...

Mick McKellar
February 2012