I lay awake some nights, as sleep evades me,
So I watch the darkness turn back to light.
The shadows that once peeked in through the window disappear to show only shards of light.
The night a distant memory, like the sleep I used to have.
Dreams aren’t always seen in sleep, they can be imagined, and lived in any hour, some of us hide there when life gets to much, holding on to better memories, or living in our own minds.
My mind is a sanctuary, a library of sorts, where I live when I feel fragile, and I find things I love…
Books I have read, sights I have seen, every image I have captured on camera, the films and plays I have enjoyed.
This is my escape from the broken dreams, without this I would not be of this world.