Full Moon

There is a hidden beauty about not being able to sleep or not being able to stay asleep.
Like everything else, there are also two sides to the coin of sleep. The anguish of trying to fall asleep, and the subtle joys of waking hours before sunrise; the joy that has been nurtured, like so many other joys that we experience in life. You grow to enjoy the coursing of fresh blood through your body, feeling it fill every vessel and vein, strengthening every sinew of your body. Feeling this flow desperatly fighting off exhaustion, valiantly but in vain. Drained but unable to sleep, yet feeling more alive then when actually living.
It is a choice every such waking to reach for the bottle on the shelf that would put an end to this sensation or to let nature, ableit a warped form, run its course. I notice that I no longer dread or curse such wakings but have begun to embrace it as if it were a dear old senile friend. Tonight, I decided in favour of nature and resumed my watch over the moon illuminated landscape; savouring this clarity of mind that has ironically come from exhaustion and fatigue, the clarity that is the source of joy in every such waking.