Rage against the dyling of the light

The Sun may set
but my ire rises
as I rage against the dying of the light.
The Sun sets,
but I rise.
Only after the day is done
when normal people sleep
resting after a honest
or dishonest  
days work,
is when my mind grinds into gear.
The tectonic plates
with iceberg ponderousness
finally align to make me mortal.
Darkness descends
but my mind rises,
free from distractions
painting mental pictures in the dark.
Dreams and desires
spouting forth their visions
in screaming impotent defiance
to a day unseized
and the coming emptiness.
I fall asleep in desperation
as the Sun rises
and the confounded cycle begins again;
to when Ra sets and it all resets.