Exultation

I

Laboriously climb

The rock-hewn stairs

Towards exultation.

Yet at every step,

I pause and think

If I'd be better off

Turning back

As my sweat drips down.

But I can't.

I've been there--

And the only way

Is up.

Pyre of Insomnia

Insomina

Is the pyre

of the Self.

But...

Who is holding the match?

Insomniac's Lament

Hear

My mournful sleepless tune,

My insomniac's lament.

A cat meows dolefully outside my window.

Somewhere,

A dog barks.

Meanwhile, I toss and turn,

Hoping for a glimpse of sleep.

But if I do fall asleep...

What will happen to my poems?

A Letter to Insomnia

Dear Insomnia,

You're responsible

For some of my best poems.

I hate you...

Please don't leave me.