We rise, each day with hopes of crossing a new mountain and then we fall by the sunset along the shores of struggle. Someday we ask ourselves, is it worth it? Deep down we know it is, since otherwise we wouldn't be living.
Strike 1: Insomnia
Another night, a few more bytes and an image
A laptop, a wooden chair and a mahogany table
A near full water bottle stands alone like a candle
Streetlamps smile in the glory of their shadows.
At the stroke of midnight I woke up, realizing the air was too cold. Anticipations for a smiling princess lead me to break my sacred vow.
Strike 2: Sleep
A soft bed with a silk cover, a tough pillow;
Eyelids closed, dreams arrive and disappear
How time zones dictate the worlds, far and near!
One for the records is becoming crystal-clear!
Strike 3: Waking up
Restless arms of time sound the alarm;
The frozen eyes sniff the familiar room:
Rotating blades and illuminated windows
Wake up, they say, the bus is here.
Strike 1: Insomnia
Another night, a few more bytes and an image
A laptop, a wooden chair and a mahogany table
A near full water bottle stands alone like a candle
Streetlamps smile in the glory of their shadows.
At the stroke of midnight I woke up, realizing the air was too cold. Anticipations for a smiling princess lead me to break my sacred vow.
Strike 2: Sleep
A soft bed with a silk cover, a tough pillow;
Eyelids closed, dreams arrive and disappear
How time zones dictate the worlds, far and near!
One for the records is becoming crystal-clear!
Strike 3: Waking up
Restless arms of time sound the alarm;
The frozen eyes sniff the familiar room:
Rotating blades and illuminated windows
Wake up, they say, the bus is here.
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