“A Paean For The Weary, A Poem For
The Sleepless”
09/23/11
To my very precious
friends, and constant, loyal readers,
As ever again, I must
ask for your most kind forgiveness, my sweet friends, as I have been so very
tired of late, and from a want of genuine and refreshing sleep, have been
rendered seriously dull-witted, and insensate; words come to me not easily, nor
can I—with any facility—try to compose an entry worthy of your wonderful
attention.
Yesterday, for good
example, I had spent—perhaps—three hours at the computer, in trying to write an
entry to submit to you.
I could not have been
but a few sentences shy of completing my entry, when—owing, probably to this
dammed neuropathy in my hands and fingers—I inadvertently hit the wrong key,
and lost…everything!
My good friend and
cousin is supposed to visit me, tomorrow, during which time we go-over the
mistakes I make on the computer, as well as preparing for me a most delicious lunch!
Sometime ago, he
installed a program called, “Dragon”, whereby one can—with practice—simply speak
into a microphone to have it translated to the computer screen!
Of course—dear friends—at
the beginning, anyway, what is spoken, and what is ‘written’ are often two,
entirely different and bizarre things!
In an attempt for the program to make sense of the spoken word, the
results are often hilariously funny!
And, as you know, frequently our conversations are punctuated by, ‘ahs,
ers, ‘you knows’, and others; all these things are translated to the computer
screen, and—of course—necessitate several editings to remove the silliness.
However, friends,
since my hands and fingers no longer can be relied-upon to not vaporize an
entry, I believe that I will try that ‘spoken’ program to see how it looks.
Meanwhile, I hardly
need tell you that last night’s sleep was no sleep at all being too full of
disquieting nightmares, problems with my nasal O-2 cannula, and the odd wakefulness.
And that—still tired—I
awoke to such breathtaking agony, that I gladly doubled-up on my pain
medication. And, while waiting for it to
evidence some effect, I got Daisy’s meds ready for her, and gave them to her
with her fighting all the way.
I must tell you that
Daisy seems to be getting much benefit from all her medicines, and Dr. Weston
said that—all things considered—that Daisy was doing quite well, and has—in unusual
fact (about which, more later in another post) lived four or five years longer
than is typically found in the conjugate of breed genetics that makes Daisy the
loving, hard-headed, wonderful canine companion she is.
And so—dear friends,
and ever-loyal readers—I shall close today’s entry by repeating a poem, that—I think—is
my ‘all-time, personal favorite’.
What it seeks to
address is the need for, the yearning, and keening for completely restful
sleep, as much for depression, sadness, and the desire—in sleep—to hide safely
from the world and all its ills, and the plaintive regret when such sleep will
not come.
It is my fondest hope
that you may find that it tries to address the feelings we all who ail must
surely have, certainly, among them, needless insomnia, and the daily weariness
that it confers.
I wish you a most
pleasant, and pain-free day, and a quiet start of the coming week.
And, please always know that I love you dearly!
" Where Corals Lie : A Rhapsody On A Theme By Sir
Edward Elgar "
I lie stretched out
against the sand, while up above the sky--a lum'nous band--pales leaden at the
close of day. Sleep comes not as a quiet slumbering, but as a measured death; I
feel each part of me give up its hold on life and drift away. A gentle mist
surrounds, the breath becomes a shadowed fog. I close my eyes and go to
where--as Elgar says--the corals lie.
My memory’s palette
fades, the color die, the silent patterns sway. All senses shade in black and
deeper grey. I would go there and hide, a quiet thing, my own Self vibrant with
the crashing waves is drawn out with the passing tide.
I settle deep as deep
the sea. I downward drift to where the kelp beds beckon me with siren's song
along the coral'd rift.
Above, the depth of
sea spans all around, a measureless eternity. So vast a place, that I expand to
fill all space, and lying there, become the sea.
And swift it seems I
pass the night. Too soon I feel drawn up to where the surface breaks, a panoply
of tossing waves, and scintillating rays of light. Too soon I must forsake my
sleep, returning to a world that wants me not; it wrenches me unbidden from the
comfort of the deep and restless sea.
Oh, must I rouse
myself, and blindly seek that alien shore ? When I would shun its cruel design,
and would at last return once more, to seek my rest among the cool, dark
valleys of the deep. And there, reclaim myself, my solitude, my peace in silent
sleep.
End
'Zahc'/Charles
