should be sleeping, but alas I am not. Pacing about the room like a caged animal at the zoo, I stare out into the night. No moonlight this night to bathe my room in a milky glow, left alone in ambient darkness do I sulk. A mind that refuses to rest, a heart that continues to beat nonetheless, I seem to have lost control over my own body. I will my self to sleep to no avail. Counting sheep, looking for the shepherd, none of the usual remedies seem to work.
I should be tired, I should be drained, yet restless I remain. Where is the battle? What keeps me awake? What am I holding onto? Why can't I seem to let go? I read the Psalters over and over, yet the words flow meaningless to me. All about me is serenity, the night is tranquil after the storm. But instead of being at peace, in stillness brings sharp contrast my unrest.
Conscious I may be, but even as I write I am frustrated by exhaustion's affect upon my ability to express. There is something I feel I need to profess, a goal that requires attainment before I can goo to bed. But what? Oh what? This is torture, this is bad, I am up in madness, in fatigue's false rush. Curse be upon the devil in me who denies me rest, for in the morning when God bade me I shall be weary and laden with tiring dread.
Ah Lord, have mercy upon me this night. Help me to surrender and cast asunder all needless worries and thoughts. If you will not smite me, at least grant me these little moments of death. If the angles be silent, at least allow me to hear the lullabies in my own head. I know not what to ask of you, nor do I feel I am of sound mind to even ask you what I should ask. But if you will, be still my whole being. The devil is near this night, it taunts me to curse you. It deprives me, it tempts me, but I will not be moved with your help, so please send help before I am so weakened that I denounce you as Job did once.
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