We watch the world go to sleep.

We walk through the night,

on our ‘boulevard of broken dreams.’

Assess our wrongs.

Re-assess their’s.

We lose our sleep.


I am one of them.

One of you, insomniacs.


Lets not call it insomnia.

We are creative people.

We love the night to set the creative fire ablaze.

And smoke.

Or sigh!

We like to drink.

Coffee, maybe?


We are like that, y’know!



We stay awake to procreate


And we feel the urge to run naked

yelling Eureka!

We want to conquer,

our fears and insecurities.


We read stories.

Of fallen angels who rise from ashes.


And in a moment of inspiration,

we blink off that insomnia.

When we know that tomorrow is

and will always be another day,

we cannot sleep.

Anticipation of a new dawn does that to us.


Creativity blooms pregnant at the wee hours.

Not insomnia.


When the lights go off in the city at night,

we burn the midnight oil.

Disrupting the silence of the night,

with our sharp knives.

Dissecting thoughts.

To produce art.


We are like that, y’know!



Sangeeta Purkayastha

Image Source: The Viewspaper