Insomnia's Demise
The mind is like
A restive moth
That darts in circles
Through the night,
Probing old
And newer things
With languid beat
Of roving wings.
At length to find
The overlap -
A place where
'Now' and 'then' collide.
It circles down
With easy strokes,
To fold the wing
And sleep.
A restive moth
That darts in circles
Through the night,
Probing old
And newer things
With languid beat
Of roving wings.
At length to find
The overlap -
A place where
'Now' and 'then' collide.
It circles down
With easy strokes,
To fold the wing
And sleep.
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