As I’ve grown older, the night-time has taken on as much life as daylight hours.  Often throwing up creative moments, navigating the small hours is a rollercoaster of a journey. 

That Place

There is a place where thinking and sinking join,
where knotted thoughts loosen in the dark,
and your cerebellum’s lobes – the battlefield where they fought –
grow calm.

Ideas drift and swirl in that place.
They swill and merge, bump gently;
your brain’s flotsam bobs and sinks behind shuttered eyelids
into sleep’s respite –

where crazy images collide and jangle,
unspoken unthought thoughts scramble, and
impossible antagonists wrangle.
Amidst the tangled sheets
adversaries spar across your synapses
and the night is drenched in victory, loss, triumph,
submerged deep
in that place called
a good night’s sleep.