Deep in the comfort of my darkness,
and numb enough to succumb to sleep,
I stare in silence through the shadow-
through the comfort, through the deep.

When in my still there comes a wind
that pierces through the clouds in me;
the curtains dance like shaken spirits
while my spirit aches to be shook free.

My window aligns to the city streets,
but I care not for what lights they see-
for I in my waking see their judgment
would tame the flow of my destiny.

A voice now calls me to the mountain
where I am to finally write my book-
and maybe there I'll reclaim the years
that all this darkness and comfort took.