When I look back on my words
In the suffocating dredges
Of night, thoughts as fallen stars
And eyes refusing to close,
I wish for nothing more
Than to feel Your presence
Filling the hollows of my room
And the ghastly shadows I had
Envisioned as looming figures—
A gold-brushed light bathing
My insomniac regrets with
The love that is perfect
And unfailing, no matter
How much I doubt.