Insomnia

Blessed is the calmness of our impassioned night, Forever bound to the passionate starlight, Unblessed is the sound from an old, rusting clock Inside this windows encasement; Oh but we lay here instilled with insomnia Give me the nature, your intent and desire When in thought remains the product of your urges, The will relates to the capacity of our mind Implanted in the hunger for sleep; But we lay here long with insomnia Come listen, too silent the sound as we lay, And hear the wind as it rattles the glass; While blessed is a soul who lays until morrow Staring at the windows encasement; Hungering an end to insomnia By m.norton