it's raining outside
and it's raining in my mind.
thoughts that pitter patter and splatter
with as much nimble grace as water drops
that stream down the glass.
darkness is comforting at this turning point.
morning is within reach, and night is in retreat,
and my thoughts, slow, between each.
conscious topic has eluded me.
pictures and sounds, unrelated, trickle together
as if they were created just to be.
midnight is a time to be alive:
yet, slumber is still my ever vigile guard
and before living can be realised,
stronger become's night's lingering girth,
to guide me down to morning's birth.