A bird at play with air and mind and images to endow our thought with wings of power and of light. So we all rise with her and fly through the chromatic skies and roost within her imagination. She sings for us to ease our cares and gives us all a feather's caress.
Behold the people march, in throngs beyond imagination. There walk the angry masses that prove the pundits wrong, for winter is now gone away and thus their paid lies have melted with the season.
O Insomnia, destroyer of dreams, you push my poor mind to utmost extremes. At the merest hint of nod or of snore, you sneer and attack with consummate roars. I'm thus more awake than ever before...