Some nights I am calm and read before bed,
Most others I rage and t-bone my head;
For reasons I have yet to understand
I silence my brain before I darken my nightstand.
Is it because my sails are sagging unbattered
By blue windy passions that blow forward and backward?
Is it because I perceive no certain direction
To rig my sails for which might blow me to heaven?
Or is it some chink down deep in my armor
Undetected by pride and leading to slaughter?
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