Late Nights

What is it about late nights That makes me ponder And think all through the Night. When darkness creeps in, Silence is calm and slow. Here I lay awake, For what must be hours. Questioning life until The wee-hours. "Why am I here?" and "What is my purpose?" Cries my mind. As I lay here feeling tired and empty inside. "Where shall I go?" and "What shall I do?" I think to myself While I sit here and stew. Eyes are closed But feel wide open. My mind spins, But my body stays frozen. What is it about late nights That make me pray for sleep, Nice and light. Not heavy and deep like a bear's slumbering sleep Dark and steep. Here I keep. Awake, awake Forever stucking in a dream Built by my everwandering Mind. "What a curious thing!" I think to myself As I question the mind itself. Late nights, late nights Why do they do this so? Make my mind ebb and flow I wish for peace I dream for rest. Did I not pray enough? Am I not blessed? To be like those who know Sleep well And do not dwell Forever in the moon's spell.