Deep into the night, when darkness and cold unite,
Some resentful souls chill their bones in fright,
While others in rhythm, sleep, following the normal pattern of their life,
Wonder then, what would be the insomniacs plight,
Being one myself I consider this period the Dinsomniac Delight.
The brain flushes more blood than any other time of the day.
Attracting enumerable ineffable thought its way.
Borrowed words do justice to a mere fraction of these, others are too spell binding to express,
Bearing beguile thoughts lacking expression make me feel a simultaneous sense of effusive haplessness.
Grateful to have been granted the perception to notice, cursed to lack the full bouquet of expression to emote.
But I cant outrun my instincts, so an attempt to augment “the dinctionary” to promote thoughts that my eclectic alter ego provokes.
An unrestrained mind is the apposite disco for Lucifer to pop lock and drop thoughts,
The temperate one ,moving at the speed of life, never loses the plot.
The curse of creativity demands artists to look beyond the obvious,
Into the infinite randomness where they cross paths with both magnificence and things obnoxious.
Truncated
The journey will teach you how to bare with the ugly so that you can celebrate the grandeur of the elegant.
Stop shivering at the chaos, learn to live with the elements.