This is a short and rather cryptic piece about devotion to duty and the introspective self-doubting thoughts it sometimes brings, and the anticipated healing power of friends. It isn't dated, but I'm guessing that I wrote it during my rather traumatic internship as a House Surgeon in Whangarei. Nowadays I don't usually resort to poetry when I can't sleep, but my sleep is still periodically disturbed by the same negative thinking—thinking that can resist even the wise words of a very good friend.
The soundlessness of silence grows upon the evening.
Sleep is defiant, as a dream not remembered.
So trapped in its cage of self-reflection,
The spirit cries out, a sigh drowned by the wind.
Oh where is my Benevolent Circle?
Thoughts turn inward in times of fragility,
In the solitude of duty,
And now, in sleeplessness.
Thoughts dark as a shadow cast by night,
To which the Benevolent bring illumination.
The time will come, as time must,
When the bonded spirit finds peace.
For such a comfort is the warmth of a friend,
In a cosmos so vast, cold, and indifferent.
And the Circle will complete, as a circle must.
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