It’s in the still of night,  
the quiet moments of solitude
that my mind is unable to find sanctuary in forgiving thought
my mind unable to reside in a familiar haven

It is in these moments of dwindled thought that my mind becomes a prisoner
delving into what is
what was and
what could have been

My truth surfaces in the chill of dawn
the yoke of my mind broken
my existence confirmed  as my feet tread the cold black surface
my indifferent eyes open
my weary soul exposed  

Once I was a slave of my mind
now I am confronted with
something unmercifully
something undeniable
the truth of my existence.