the music woke me
i tried to sleep
but the nocturnal called my name
and i could not close my lids
to the invisible light that stirred me heavenward
all still and quiet about me
but pouring forth like a boiling pot
i wrote until the wee hours of the morning
when finally dry and scorched
i fell beneath sleeps heavy hand
my papers strewn about me
my mind now slack in the comfort of slumber
my spirit quieted for the moment
but ever ready for the calling
when the song is sung
it awakens something i cannot contain