Sunday, 2 February 2014

Diary of an insomniac

The sky slid slowly into another self, this time letting the stars take stage, and them, almost velvetting the unassuming  firmament with their glare. Happiness of sorts, enwrapped me tautly . Kept me rapt, as  the breath of my soul and the sound of the ticking clock now intertwined into one.  As the populace slipped deeper into the world of  its dreams, scripted intricately  with every detail inclining toward  its own  idea of 'perfect', in hope of an escape from an aching reality, for no matter how short, I  stood as I do everyday, unfailingly gazing at the scores of stars that seem to be yearning  to share their story, sketch an unknown figure or script a lamentful ballad- those that only I would comprehend.

On these nights, I stare raptly,  not noticing the seconds, minutes or even the hours as they speed into nothingness- kindly caressing my wakeful dreams, holding them closer as the world slips deeper into a welcoming slumber.. as I drift away into a newer world that the stars have set, that the sky has donned to welcome the visitor that is me. 

When nights pass, and my resistance to not stay awake seems futile, I expend them staring at the same stars again. Night after night, wondering what new stories they would hold for me. The dying sky glares back at me, as it does every night, selling its disinterested ideas- the same story, the same characters. I listen intently, like the scripts were new.

And when the moments have exhausted, when it seems like there's nothing more to say or that a break is necessary, as in most matters of life, the sky takes stage again. The black slyly giving itself away to the red, and then to  the blue.

And when the populace wakes up to receive the coming of dawn, believing the events of the day are yet to begin, I smile craftily at their misadventure, the nonchalant abandonment of such unparalleled beauty as these nights.