All aboard against sleep

When the lull of sleep
is not sleepy enough,
when the nausea is too timid
to slay the mind's demons,
an insipid aftertaste in the mouth —
into that sleepless night —
the darkest hour —
a rainbow — dainty yet resplendent —
paints itself
into the restive canvas of the mind.


My rainbow transcends the darkness —
And soars high —
Colors soaking up all the hue
My weary mind can brew.
And in that transient rhapsody,
I play muse to my own imagination —
as it does to me —
And in its own reflective biome,
the creation defines itself —
just as it defines me.


Where does the hue come from?
Is it the intoxication
from all the light of the day —
unfolding into the night?
An intoxication marred by life —
promise of renewed mirth
under the sun —
the rise and fall of the tides —
the diurnal magic
that tonight's stygian darkness
can dare not hide.