Insomniac's Sonnet

I didn't want to go to bed, so I figured I'd do something productive, like write a poem. So I did. And the poem ended up being about the fact that I couldn't sleep.

The day, it seems, is rolling up its scroll
As I, awakened, watch as knowledge fades

Beneath the leaves of the already-rolled,

While darkness blurs the ink with heavy shades.
 

The world has gone to bed, and as will I

(As soon as I have reached some greater plane,

Or grasped some higher truth that may belie

How addled, restless, hungry is my brain.)
 

Just one more chapter, then to bed I'll go,

But night is rolling up her scrolls too soon-

Before my page is done the dark will grow,

'Til heavy-eyed I retire to my room.
 

Is this a love of truth? Or mere delay

To recognize the ending of the day?