Sleep, or lack thereof

Lately, I've been short on sleep. It seems a luxury anymore. Most nights, I toss and turn in a fruitless attempt to give my body the necessary rest that it seeks. My mind usually races with random thoughts of the day, or time, or things of depth previously unknown to me. I try to reason myself to sleep, yet my mind is ever vigilant in it's attempts to confine me to this wakeful world. I don't ever seem to figure anything out during these times, except that I am tired, and frustrated, thus perpetuating the cycle. I've grown to treasure those nights where sleep is able to encompass me in it's peaceful arms, wrapped in blankets of dreams, and laying upon pillows of pure comfort. I like when slumber overtakes me, finally, and I fall under the power of the night. The morning comes too soon, yet when it does, I'm glad to wake up, refreshed, renewed, revitatized. It almost sounds like a shampoo commercial or something. Sleep, dream, repeat. Sleep, dream, repeat. And by morning, the air seems warmer, the sun seems brighter, and the significance of a good night's rest is even more clear. And last night's luxurious sleep created one of these perfect mornings.