Nox Poem by David Mitchell

It is the night. Darkness prevails.
Sharp smites the knife-like wind:
Sleepless these hours of howling gales
When day is far behind.

The world returns to slumber deep,
But I do not know rest;
Morpheus may toward others creep;
He creeps toward the blest!

But while they dream of summer days
And fellowship of friends,
I lie awake, and heavenward gaze:
No drowsiness descends.

I stretch my arms and up I rise;
I wander to and fro,
Until the dim and silent skies
With light begin to glow.

And as I walk across my room,
I ponder many things
About departed joy and gloom
And what the future brings.

(The last verse written today, Thursday,8th January,2009; all the rest written either 2008 or 2007, I don't know [orig. MS. n.d.].)