When I lay down to sleep at night, my mind races with thoughts of the day,

With funny things my friends had said or the things we did together.

My problems swirl around, begging me to find their solution

And I review events that I had likely reviewed a thousand times already

But I continue on reviewing, like a damned man who hungers but never eats.

I search my soul for purpose, and plan out dreams of the future

And who knows how much time I have spent before sleeping,

Thinking of the type of girl who would love me for who I am,

And wondering if I could ever do the same for her.

As I lay there in my bed, this tempest grows more intense, and I feel I can’t getaway

But then an image of an enormous city appears in my head, and I grab hold,

Hoping that it could anchor me in the storm.

The winds of thought tear at its walls, and rip up the streets,

But I hold on tight to every piece and try to keep it whole,

Until the wind stops altogether, and I stand in this perfect city, by myself, and alone.

I explore the streets and look in the windows,

Knowing I’m still awake and that the storm couldn’t be far off.

Clean glass, steel, and concrete are all I see in this place but the simplicity is its beauty.

I look ahead, and at the end of the street, the city ends,

But rather than the storm, I see a rich field, with grass as high as my waist,

And trees that grow thick with leaves and have large knots in their trunks.

I see the place where I had walked before.

It’s a dirt path that winds through the grass, leading through the trees, to a wide hill.

I made that path, I remember now, and I follow it up the hill.

A simple wooden chair sits on its peak and I remember why I came. 

I take my seat, finally at peace, and close my eyes to rest.

This was my world; I was its king, and the only person in it.