sleepless streaming on the fringe of a full moon

3:30 am restless unable to sleep. Tossing and turning my sides aching from the all too forgiving foam cusion. Moon emanating a blue across the night sky in through my window which is open to run the chill out of the concrete tiled room; the glass door opens and shuts in a calming erythematic tempo. I feel as if I am by the ocean with the waves crashing on me on a front porch swing on a summer night but no, it is to cold here now.

But the sound of water is true and not an illusion I am still awake not yet dreaming.

The river, mere paces away from my window, it is roaring, light rapids.

I am alive and it is alive and could destroy my home one day if the waters rise as they are.

But I will be gone for where I am is temporary but oh the families that will stay here how close my neighbors are to the over flowing gates of water, tides washed down from melting glaciers somewhere in the far distance.

But now I am safe and awake and outside all I hear is the waters,
calming soothing not even a breeze through the trees.

I look out the window.

Fog is rising off the ground and glowing in the blue mask of the moon.

A small shrine where the founder of this village lays, dead, asleep, still loved and honored. Right there outside my window he lays entombed.

Still 3:30 and no sleep, restless.

I closed my eyes and opened again as three men cloaked in white seem to float by my window with the light banging of a drum, white turbans, people unrecognizable to me.

One stops for a moment still within my view.

I feel no threat. He pisses or something of that gesture. Why it is night, who would be awake to see?