Night Vignette

I am curled up, the blanket tight in my hands and tucked under my feet, but just as the lights from the streets below whisk and slant across my wall, so my mind is restless; with each hour I spend in postured rest, I become more anxious and fatigued by the harsh and incessant lights playing across my mind’s bedroom wall. Finally, I can no longer to be in the dark, alone with my mind; I turn over the blankets, drift into the kitchen, and listen softly as the burbling water starts to boil. With the warm chai tea cupped in my hands, I find my favorite chair on the rooftop deck, and rest one leg over the other. I find a quiet in this space between moments; and the constellations, although still at first, slowly start to turn under my watchful gaze.