It is becoming increasingly impressive how a poem written at the start of a week ends up as being more apposite than when first written. It is almost as if life is imitating art. In this case, this is a pretty accurate representation of the balancing act that takes place between my brain and body, and that the consequences of ignoring one for the other does end up having a physical affect on my life.
I think I might go have a nap after I’ve scheduled these poems.
Did It Again
Waking once more before the dawn
With mind racing, ideas unborn:
Creative need inspires this soul,
But is not helping body’s whole.
This situation, every time
Believing everything is fine,
My creativity demands
Physical cost, out of my hands.
For days the sleep that brain will need
Is sacrificed, comfort concedes
Battle to my higher functions,
Causing physical malfunctions.
These bruises, bumps and scrapes attest
Physical status is oppressed:
No need now to co-ordinate,
Make use of brain, before too late.
When finally the moment’s passed
My body’s first request, when asked
Is not for exercise we skipped
But simply for a nice, long kip.