Darkness

When it’s 2 am,

Not quite.

More like 2:03

Or 2:04,

But it doesn’t really matter anyway,

Because shadows line the walls

And you fumble in the darkness.

Searching.

Searching.

For even a sliver of light,

And finally you see the bright star suspended in the ink-dark sky

Emitting a strong, warm light.

So you open a book

You do not need to count the hours

Because you know

That even at the darkest moments

That star will be there,

You do not need to count the hours

Because you know that the warm light of sunrise

The warm streaks of orange and gold,

Will paint the sky once more

And you will come falling

falling into grace.