3 a.m.

There’s something spiritual about 3 a.m.; or maybe there’s a

religious element to neurotransmitters. I’m not certain; yet

either/or a person stands restless, downbeat, plus—semi-

dejected. I would argue our minds unite: a world of flustered

souls, vibrating to an unuttered melody. Such malaise a

cadence strumming interior strings. A heart thumbs through

quasi-depression, but some are wrestling with a monster.

A person paces; such that a spouse says: “Are you alright”;

or quick wittingly asks: “Are you manic?” This is our life:

fighting to aid others, while burning seven candles for seven

churches. Chapters are unread; however, today, today is

grandiose. So a person may rent a tuxedo; buy a watch or

chain; even max a credit card: if only to feel an upbeat

current. These are extremes; for many hide, bound to

uneasiness: writing, praying, studying, probing science, or

cleaving to sanity’s bread: love, hope, and medication.