Friday, 11 May 2012

Sleep is pain's easiest salve, and doth fulfill all the offices of death, except to kill.

Okay, so that sounds a bit morbid, but John Donne's still my favourite metaphysical poet! (The quote is from his poem The Storm.)

Yesterday I was having a bit of a struggle...yes, I suppose an internal storm would be as good a way as any to describe it...

Internal Storm Rising by Dearborn
  (What a fabulous image I've just discovered - see it here at the Thomas Anthony Gallery, Utah)

 ...a struggle, despite all my protestations that I'd not been feeling great at first but that then I was better.  Nothing serious (which somehow made it worse that I felt so awful!) - but nothing that I could seem to shift.

It's very tiring when internal storms are raging inside your head!

At 8 o'clock, I went to bed - and I slept and I slept and I slept until 6 a.m. and I woke up feeling...


...there was sunshine at dawn, after the storm.

Sleep had done its magic.