Understood, imperfect

             So much I try my hardest not to understand.
Only knowing that my state of mind will never be
perfect, not be crystal clear. Only thing I hold onto
is the reality of yes I am making small steps.

             Sadly though night raids of tangents rip
throughout my brain causing me to stay wide awake
in moments of deep exhaustion. The fatigue may
not be noticed, just felt in parts I don't acknowledge
until late in the evening.

              Some would say age has a factor. I agree
to some point but primarily I voice that imperfection
increases the weariness. Still my eyes and mind are
blazing. The settling down has to come.

              Indeed though the concerns that weigh
upon me I do not hold tight. I hope that there are
answers and my assumptions are falling stones
upon my face. Oh the mind plays tricks if you allow
it too, just as the heart does.

             So dearest friend I hope your eyes were heavy,
that your dreams were swift and your sighs were
even. The longest breath exhaled as the night fell.

            Oh I can hope that, yes? Still I sigh in the
melody that a slow inhale performs a heavy dosage
of sleepiness. Indeed I hope.

            Midnight has come and closing. Still the
steel blue grays jerk alert. Just.. want.. to.. sleep..

            Alas the morning chimes send out and the
crazy wild child become peaceful. Cocooning inside
blue cotton and red chenille. Indeed the lasting
struggle of being vibrant fades into a misty haze.

           The mind slows for focus and sings a sweet
lullaby. Yes a soft smile creases petal pinks and
hides snowflakes of freckles. A tiny whimper
escapes and a content violet appears. Softened
by dreams of calm, of joy, of vibrancy.

          Indeed now I can say goodnight upon this
early morning. One a.m. quake as the soul covers
inside warmth.

         A hope that later this morning, a good day
unfolds.