i feel it creeping in at two-thirty in the morning, after quietly locking the door behind me and turning on the lights. i hear it whisper in silence past the cars and trucks down below. and i find myself sitting down instead of creeping between sheets and into dreams, i find myself hands clasped, staring outside at the silhouette of buildings and the windows with their faint yellow-white lights, thinking, remembering, and tracing my steps, wondering why this feeling suddenly appears to clench my heart cold.
and taking a deep breath, i tell myself to get some sleep and wait for the sun's light to penetrate through the window. wait for the fog to clear and my mind's waters to calm itself to stillness. that there is no rush here like the sands of the hourglass emptying into a void below, with no way of even grasping a single grain. that there is no need to push or pull myself back from anything. and then i assure myself beyond the doubt or certainty of it all, that where i stand right now, is where i am supposed to be.
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