The bright orb burns eyes bleary red with salted corners stinging still

Sanctuary lies not in bed, nor in Night's airy chill

Shrill voices echo from my head, playing patterns that I dread

I'll sleep no more 'til you return, but stagger here instead.

Determined not to lose this round.

I'll find you anyway.

La Voce Della Luna, continued - The Courage of Intimacy by Keith Ainsworth                                                                                                                                   32