It comes upon all of us; the stealth of the sapping subtlety; the interruption of sleep, once removed in the quietude of dawn’s calm but for the far echoes of distant yearnings once deliberated, but as in the morning dew which forms soundlessly upon the bending blade of beatitude, the slow slide and dissipation tells us with an alarm that awakens: What am I doing? Panic is the alarm system which propels with an urgency, and often it results in the furious activity of unproductive futility. […]