The chimes of England echo in my mind

As I try to understand

My place, my purpose, and my being.

Aware of the biting cold,

The dry air,

The comfort of my bed,

And the familiar shapes

Of the dim lamps above.

As I sit up,

Feeling the rough wood and steel

Of my table beneath my hands,

My thoughts are clear.

Blinded by the clock's light,

I check the time,

Routine as ever.

I rise from my bed,

And gaze out the window,

Into the dark abyss.

In that moment, I push myself,

Fighting the urge

To give up and surrender.

The allure of peace

On the far side,

So warm, so inviting.

But now is not the

Time or place for such longing.

I bury them deep

Within me,

And press forward.

By the time I step

Through that door,

My mind is focused on tomorrow.