Restless.

The night won’t hush—

it hums with whispers

of things not yet born.

Visions flicker

like candlelight behind my eyes,

and the future knocks

with too many hands.

I’ve been praying,

tongue heavy with hope,

heart like a struck bell

ringing through the stillness.

Sleep stands far off,

a stranger I once knew

who no longer answers my door.

Ideas bloom too fast—

wildflowers in a storm,

each one a path,

a fortune, a lover’s name,

a check not yet cashed

but already spent

in dreams made of fire.

I'm full to the brim—

lightning in my bones,

gold on my breath,

questions threading through

the cracks of my mind.

What do I do

with this holy chaos?

Tell me how to rest

when the stars speak in riddles,

and my soul won’t stop running

toward everything

all at once.