Sleep....

When sleep has graced me with its gentle embrace, the morning birds weave melodies that lift my spirit, their songs a delicate hymn to the waking world. But when the night has been cruel leaving me restless and worn, their very voices become an unbearable mockery… shrill reminders of all I lack. In my exhaustion I curse their blissful ignorance and their ceaseless joy. They know nothing of my burdens, yet I take their songs as a taunt and an affront to my weariness. And in the depths of my unrest I long to silence them with stones in hand… not out of hatred, but out of envy, out of the aching desire to feel as light, as free, and as untroubled as they are.