| Some nights | |
| I lie in forced awakeness | |
| My thoughts won't let me go | |
| A sleep like death has claimed the world outside | |
| The silence reshapes my solitude, from a refuge to a prison | |
| Distractionless, nowhere to hide | |
| Aloneness holds the mirror | |
| I see things | |
| I just can't work through | |
| Some things you'll never shine any light into | |
| Like how to read what will be, from what has been | |
| Like what's in store for me, and you | |
| I wonder what my life will be, what lies ahead for the people close to me? | |
| How can I make my peace with uncertainty -- in a sea of risk, swim with serenity? | |
| Some nights my thoughts drag me to a cold, cold place: the dark side of mortality | |
| Who will be the next to go -- their light blown out forever, in that merciless finality? | |
| Lives are running novels; at times you read, at times you write | |
| The choice of which to do might keep you awake at night | |
| Should I just accept or act against this pressing moment | |
| Should I run for cover or stand and fight? | |
| I wonder what my life will be, a public failure or success in obscurity? | |
| How can I make my peace with uncertainty -- in a sea of risk, swim with serenity? | |
| I wonder what my life will be, what lies ahead for you and me? | |
| Can I make my peace with uncertainty? | |
| I wonder what my life will be: | |
| I wonder: |
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