A Consideration

I reflect briefly on my state of mind.
I feel the tired in my bones like the ghosts of my ancestors pulling me to earth.
I feel my eyelids shudder like nervous insects stuck on the wrong side of a window pane.
My face is awash in harsh light
 unlike moon or stars or any natural thing
but a cloying phosphorescence, man made and beautiful in its denial of the established order.
I sit before my font of information.
 It is late and my mind is awash in pensive thoughts like a slow tide washing over the toes of my brain. Bathing it in a salty swill of neverminds and pleasuregones.
I feel adrift. A moth without a moon. A moon sans sun. A sun warming nothing.
I will sleep now and when I wake the hum drum daily will be back. A man in a waist coat with a watch that ticks louder than anything real should. He will say "There is a place you should be." And "There are things you must be doing."
But he sleeps before I do and tonight I can catch a few minutes away to pen a few lines of nonsense.
How do elves feel about magic? Who holds the keys to the planes of fire? What lurks beneath the deepest crypt in the tightest tomb, the impregnable sepulcher. I will sit in my boat, adrift on my sea and while away a few minutes with my fickleseems and eversighs.
And then I think I will go to sleep.