I awoke in a sweat last night, chest tight, throat clenched... full of longing. These late nights of sheet tossing have become more frequent. In those moments I seem to be facing the bottomless pit of my own unknowing, my forgetfulness, my ache. I fill it with thinking, with babble brain, but I don't rest until I am spent from all the thinking and the flow of longing subsides into the quietude of sleep.

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