Strive I do most every day to get to the night, to the end, to slumber again,

I long for the break, the dark, the rest,

Only most every night, early morn, waking before dawn, most mostly still night,

Mind racing, chasing a long list of the many things still left undone, mountain of undone,

And so I wrestle the angst back inside, insistent it give me my peace in the dark again,

My friend, some sort of irony, the very thing I long for, it is oft’ fleeting and not easy,

But like so many other things I must grapple and make insistent effort, reject insomnia feeling, to close my eyes again.