2 o’clock in the morning,
I rest not yet tonight.
This hour I am a penitent man,
Lord help me make things right.

I stir for a time upon my berth,
my state, in truth contrite.
Perhaps a glass of wine to aid
assess my path in life.

I walk out to my quiet place
and gaze into the night.
A gorged full moon
defies the clouds.
My world is awash in light.

Hours pass, morning breaks,
my raging brain now still.
A new day ensues,
my ink well refilled.
I sharpen and sheath my quill.