flight into the wordless

An insomniac condition has set upon me in the past years and though I miss deep restful sleep, there is something lovely about being awake when most others are sleeping. Sometimes I look out my window, Hemmy perched beside me--a surprising statue that suggests an entirely different cat lives in my house when he's in full energy mode--and marvel at the stillness of night; the entirely new world bathed in dark and shadows. How is it that Uncle Walt always has a poem for me...?

"A Clear Midnight"
This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,
Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done,
Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou
lovest best.
Night, sleep, and the stars.

--Walt Whitman


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