A Lying Man

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Reclining in my bed until the sun's farewell, I plunged into a realm more profound, amidst twilight's embrace, where all the warriors of life whispered gratitude.

The foe within, a feeble self within my thoughts, and the foe without, a languid self in the tangible world.

I was so used to moving after the sun had set that it was hard for me to say that it meant the end of the day, 

but each day's setting sun was a way for the real me to recognize that I had lost each day in an imaginary battle.

The defeated me would haunt the real me until the sun rose again.

It disturbed me to realize that every moment would pass without meaning unless I made it meaningful.