A Sirens Call

In the middle of the night when all sounds have ceased, I toss and turn in search of solitude. The mind races and sleep becomes increasingly illusive. One would think that a man in his twilight would escape the vicissitudes of youth when the pressures of commercial relevance and familial pressures wane. But reality contradicts such hopes.

One never escapes what binds life to the responsibilities of being a father. To care, love, and worry. But still, why aren’t the waters of travel quieter? Why isn’t my night filled with peaceful solitude? Why can’t I let go? Is my destiny to wallow in the night’s abys, fearing what I do not know? The black dog peers through the underbrush of life, ready to abscond with my pursuit of a destination unknown.

What keeps me awake is the racing heart on the hunt. I am in search and the prey is on the run. Night is not for respite because the sands of time run quick. The hopeful scan of the landscape seeking the soul’s home. I know it exists but is time too short? Maybe what keeps me awake is the wanderings of an explorer at heart. This is not the thoughts of a sentenced man but the eternal optimism of a prospector for life’s purpose. My unsettled nights are not a sign of troubles but a warning of sirens calls. To navigate these treacherous waters, a noble journey worthy of Odysseus. If restless nights are the price I pay, I willingly do so.