It seems I've been again taken captive of insomnia as the
ceiling fan makes endless circular treks above me.
I can't see it with the light off but I know it's there and
like so many things the knowing is all that matters.
I'm thinking that it and I have some things in common,
like being suspended in empty darkened space,
always spinning and never getting anywhere.
My vital signs say I'm still alive but if my
heart is beating it's lost too deep in my chest for me to
feel it (I'm feeling as inanimate as the fan).
I was thinking I was too depressed now to write
anything at all but I ended up finding
inspiration in a stupid ceiling fan.
So I guess life is full of beautiful surprises after all.