While holding a ball of fire given to me by the gods

The world sleeps
Crossing
into the Open
where Being
can find no rest.
Insomnia: this
ball of rock
still turns.
On the other side
there are those
who go about
aimlessly,
while we,
at least to recharge,
have purpose.
Sleep is
the most natural state.
Soon, those who do not sleep,
will take our jobs...

As the lights at the top of the Hancock flicker in the light polluted semi-darkness:

To ground:
retrogressively
I wander
amidst the nothing
in the abyss,
lost in the desert
I see a mirage:
the unity of human reality.
But reality? How abstract!
Nothing: I go to drink
the water and fill
my face with sand.
Left with despair
It comes to me:
I must live
with illusions,
for hope is not
to be found
elsewhere.
Then, I think
I know I think,
and out of myself
the fountain emerges.