A Sonnet to a Wayword Love, Who will not Hear it

Sonnet,Sleep Deprivation

Sleep, thou art unfaithful as a mistress -
And to a thinking man you are unkind;
For want of thee, I wander, ever hopeless,
Across the rocky crags of weary mind.
As Moses felt, those years behind the Jordan,
Or Magellan, long adrift on faceless sea -
So cursed am I - the moon to be my warden -
For vain desire I might spend my nights with thee.
Surely there are men to whom you're faithful -
What have they that is not found in me?
I know you hear no reason; mine is simple:
If you could be more true, we'd both be free.
For I'm not jealous, that no other man should have thee;
But rather, after all my love, you find no love for me.