The dawn still miles from reality
Distant still forefront of desire,
But evening is well for the soul unattended
Still waking in dusk soft touch.

Stretching the day can be obsession
For fears of the night door, waste of morning
Obsession the steps to panic and frenzy
In; to the black empty dark.

Fear is exposed, the heart rent open,
Falling in a waking dream, falling to no end
A necessary trial for survivors who learn
To spare the cold midnight.

The darkest door in the darkest room
Most often opens to some light, maybe gray,
Maybe shadowed, maybe sunshine,
But always, beyond the cold midnight.