Sleeplessness
It’s one in the morning and I can’t sleep.
All around me there are walls,
Growing ever higher, coming ever closer,
Built up by the crooked evolution
Of an entire species.
Their hands made to hold each brick,
They find superiority in the assurance
That each stone is made with experience,
Each hand moves with purpose.
Yet they build too high
Until their wall
Comes tumbling down around them.
But man is strong in many ways.
He invents new walls in his mind
To replace his failures with success,
And these walls cannot fall.
They only grow ever higher,
Ever closer together
Until there is only room enough
For a choice selection.
It’s one in the morning and I can’t sleep.
I wander outside the fortress, My hand absentmindedly following the lines
Along the laid bricks, looking in vain for
A welcoming opening.
Finding a crack, I look down, Down down, down into a well
Made by the cleverness and strength
Of the infallible walls of the minds of men,
And I know I am alone,
As strange to them as they are to me, and I sit on the ground
Looking up at the walls built
To keep me out, and them in.
It’s one in the morning and I can’t sleep.
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