Insomnia

In the shadow of past dreams, where the stars lay on the horizon, there lived a man whose dream eluded him like a light breath of wind in the midnight silence. Every night he went to bed like a sea of rest, but dreamed of fatigue, of the world that opened only in the arms of weightlessness of sleep. His eyes were like windows into a cozy house standing on the edge of sleep, but the curtains remained raised, like secret thoughts that did not give rest. Stars twinkled in his eyes, sparks of hope that was elusive, like a shooting star disappearing into the darkness of the night. Every evening he greeted the dream like an old friend, but the dream eluded him like a shadow in the moonlight. Dreams swirled around like strange figures in the fog, inaccessible and elusive. He stretched out his hands, but it was impossible to reach them, like fiery stars that fall into the night abyss. A melody of sadness sounded in his heart, like rain slowly knocking on the window of his sleepless soul. He lay in bed, wrapped in a blanket of unknown expectation, listening to the ticking of the clock like an endless counter of missed moments. Night after night he sailed on the ocean of insomnia, rising on the waves of endless thoughts. Every breath was like a beacon in a dark storm, reminding him that time was running, but sleep was slipping away like grains of sand between his fingers. He became a spectator of his own life, standing on the verge between reality and a dream. Reflections of the past flickered in his eyes, like fireflies in a dark forest, and in every flicker there was a shadow of lost time. And so, every night he got lost in the labyrinths of the night streets of his thoughts, dreaming of drowning in sleep. But the dream remained in an unattainable distance, like a star that cannot be held in the palm of your hand. And so, he continued his endless journey in search of sleep, getting lost in the dark, under the starry sky of his unfulfilled night.