Something About Two O'Clock

There's something about two o'clock.
Not sure what it is.
Somewhere, I have a quote from Scott Fitzgerald
to the effect that 4 a.m. is the dark night of the soul.
But this is 2.
Is this the hour God spoke to Samuel?
Should I rise from my bed
and say, "Speak Lord your servant is listening"?
I tried that.
Tried that at two a.m. Good Friday morning.
It was a chant: "I am listening, I am listening, I am listening."
Then, off course, I considered the fact
that I couldn't really be listening
while I was chanting.
The squirrel was lose in its cage.
What would God have with me?
No Samuel here.
I'm opinionated as hell, but surely no prophet.
So, hey God, what's up?

Maybe it's not God.
Maybe it's this intemperate April.
High hit 94° yesterday.
Record high, for the date.
But I've got the AC on (reluctantly).
I sleep atop the covers.

Maybe it's all my little ego dreams of fame & romance.
Like, I don't know, some editor will discover my blog
and ask me to write a book.
Maybe someone will hear me sing,
and offer me a recording contract.
Maybe the new girl at church
is the companion I seek.
Stuff like that.
I'm used to these ego dreams.
Sometimes I amuse myself by letting them play out,
like little movies projected on the inside of my forehead.
Other times, I look elsewhere.
Seek the Inner Light.
The thin place where my spirit meets the divine spirit.

Don't know what it is.
Try wearing myself out.
Try pushing myself right to ten.
Try not to —
Try to —
Doesn't matter.
I'm awake sometime between two and three.

So, God, if it is you, I'm ready for the message.
Heck, I'll probably do whatever it is you're asking of me.
Odds are pretty good.
I'm just tired of waking up at this hour.
I'm ready to sleep now.
Just tell me, in small words,
get it over with,
and let me sleep through through the night.