I wrote this two years ago today.  It’s truer now than then.

Midnight existential angst.  It is always at its apex when, in silence and under cover of darkness, one day supplants another.  Sleep recedes, drawing back like the tide of an ever quickening, warm ocean.

Freud wrote that we are driven by two basic needs: the sex urge and the desire to be great.  Is it a sign of advancing age that the latter eclipses the former?

When I was young, I chased young women.  But at midnight now my mind will chase the racing, red, flame-bright hare of purpose, that year by year gains distance from me with its burning slim legs, as the years ahead themselves grow fewer.