Emerging Nosce Te Ipsum

Sleep.

Precious sleep.

Sleep eludes me,
The luxury of nightly recharging foreign to me,
Despite being ambassador to the inner workings of me,
So too does knowledge of the infinite evade me,
(unsettling me beyond measure)
The ever expanding void of Nosce Te Ipsum,
Whereas the quantum is something with which I am comfortable,
Though my nightly ritual,
Involves a cycle of half asleep and half awake,
I still,
Through some miracle,
(I know I am an Uber human)
My circadian rhythm interrupted,
Still allows,
That R.E.M. sleep finds me rapidly,
Ten minutes at a time,
Though,
On nights where I am half and half,
(Of which there are several weekly)
The dreams that usually come,
Are horrible nightmares of my worst creation,
Deviant creatures of dark purpose,
Annihilation assured,
The mental fragility that is I,
And I and I,
Assaulted by demonic thoughts,
The road I’m travelling is without advice,
There is no beacon of hope,
No light at the end of the tunnel,
No escape from rational thoughts interrupted,
By aggressive advances of my subconscious,
Each step one more in a direction,
That without chaperon,
Alight my fears,
Abandonment my greatest,
Frightening me to take action,
Desiring,
Needing,
Wanting to be surrounded by love,
I press forth,
One more step,
Yes, that’s it,
One more step and I will be free of these nightly terrors,
As societies jester I don’t understand,
Why the backs of all I know have been turned,
Attacking me for some unknown opulence,
A psychopathic doppelganger,
Little bastards of deviant thought,
Those send shivers down my spine,
And serotonin running for my brain stem,
Battling the dopamine rush,
A jolt of epic proportions that pushes me from my half and half state,
Back to this world,
Awakening my resilience,
To comprehend,
That which my subconscious is communicating,
What is it communicating,
What is it I am trying to tell myself,
With doomsday scenarios that play themselves out,
Inside this fractured mind,
Knowledge of the ways of this world,
The morally bankrupt and corrupting influences,
Tempered with a child like idealism,
Running from the reality of mutually assured destruction,
Into the abyss of my own disassociation,
Though I survive,
Unsure how or why,
I press on,
To the beat of obliterations drum,
Finding the time and strength,
To record,
What it is I’m seeing,
Feeling,
Hearing,
Touching,
Smelling,
Believing that this grand design,
Intelligent,
Has some purpose for my life,
And that as necessary precursor,
To this realization of self,
I must battle this nightly dread,
That I am yet to understand,
That I am yet to reach,
Perhaps,
These apparitions,
And the nightly terrors,
Are seeking to awaken the giant,
Sleeping,
So that I may find,
The ability,
To tyrannically proclaim,
Over my own subjugation of a runaway mind,
My domination,
Of this wounded spirit,
One step at a time,
Leading me to the Promised Land,
Of full comprehension of self,
As I emerge,
Once more,
Daily.

SDM

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