Today’s post will no doubt be a little strange. I’m currently writing at an ungodly hour, having eschewed sleep longer than I should have. I have left this piece, perhaps one would call it stream of consciousness writing, unedited. It is sometimes in the unfiltered state between awake and asleep that we are able to write the sentiments which we cover at all other times. For this reason, though the writing may be plagued by grammatical errors, extreme hyperbole and any number of eyeroll- inducing material I will leave it raw as it was always meant to be.
My mind races like the rushing of wind over the back of a flying eagle. Always at night in the stillness and solitude. Things call to me and beg me to dance with them. I know I should sleep but my restless soul denies me peace. I am not unhappy, rather it is the night which brings forth the true essence of myself; that part of me which never sees the light of day. It is the part of me which lives in the moment, that eagerly awaits and dreams. It is the true me who believes in fairies and goblins. It is the ancient me who feels and recognizes the magic all around, and the endless possibilities which await if I can but have the courage to believe, the sight to understand what lies outside of the everyday realm and the faith to step into the unknown, to embrace it and cling wholly committed.
This is why I hate to sleep. Sleep deadens the senses, tricks you into thinking there is nothing more than what meets the eye in the light of day. By morning the calls of ideas and magic are gone. Illusive as they are, I wait for them, not realizing what I wait for until the feeling steals over me once more and then I am alive once again.
So now that it is nearly sunrise I shall catch a few hours of sleep and regret my late night. Finally my mind is delightfully blank. Good night, or morning, or whatever. Happy day!