She chases the darkness,
Nothing, but darkness and her,
She sits there,
Darkness a blanket she can wear,
And she listens to the nothingness
that only the darkness allows;

And if she was still aware,
I'm sure she would get down on her knees
and Thank the darkness for the
Silence,
The Blessed Silence
that cocoons her now;

and when daylight comes,
she runs and hides,
hiding from the light that burns,
hiding from the pain and hiding
from the voices, the voices to loud,
and she waits for the sunset,
Eager to be spared.
then she's running again,
into the darkness,
back to the Nothingness
that the darkness allows.*

And if she was still aware,
I'm sure she would get down on her knees,
and Thank the darkness
for the Silence,
The Blessed silence
that cocoons her now.

Even the one
who lights the world
can succumb to the darkness inside.

We become blind
and see only the light.

The darkness can easily hide.

So you've scattered yourself
to the billions of stars that
blanket the billowing night

to help hold at bay
the darkness that preys
on the strong
and the weak
and the rich
and the poor
and the brilliant
and dull ones
alike.

You gave of yourself
with such ferocity of truth.

You fought with all of your might.

So thank you, old friend
for sharing your gift
and rest now
in peaceful twilight.