Nights that used to come with a promise of rest and sleep
With a promise of dreams
Now comes like a thousand clawed demon
Poking me, scratching me, tugging at my veins and nerves, with tongs of thoughts thought beyond
Like an endless serpent trying to swallow its tail
Where are the warm, luminescent mornings, that would bare the serpent's finiteness
The morning like warm palms on my shoulders,
To make me stand
Bury my face in the certain chest
Firm in form without and firm in resolution within
To wipe my tears and tell me, "it's over.
Light and warmth are here to stay
You will neither drown and gasp for breath any more, nor wallow in the never ending darkness."
The morning that will hold my hand and take me out to show the small sapling making it's way through the bosom of mother earth
Smiling with a twinkle on the dew drop gracing it's tiny leaf.