The Void Before the Dawn


Three fifty-seven a.m.
When you awaken in darkness,
Night not masked by a lamp
Or the glow of a screen,
The lure of sadness
And the clacking path into the void . . .

I dreamt of you
         And tip back
Into consciousness, mere perspective,
My own mythology of the moment
(not enough to stand upon)
Chiseled into cracking stone . . .

The dawn begins to swim through the blinds,
Illuminates every absent feature of the room . . .
    Time grinds away
Every flaw in your ethos.
    Love attains perfection
As every other motive fades.



Your thoughts are welcomed and appreciated.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s