Wrestling Angels--being the first in a cycle of poems

I was sleeping alone in the desert
In the tiresome bed I had made
And my troublesome dreams bore no comfort
From the stone where my weary head laid

To myself I was wond’ring aloud there
How it happed that I’d be brought this way
But the thoughts that I pondered and found there
Had little or nothing to say

So I’m wrestling angels at twilight
And I’m hoping my vigor will last
But now all I can do is hold tight
And pray that the morning comes fast