Not that midnight is so very dark
in my dimly lighted sleepless room,
white sheets on my bed
even whiter than what’s so thoroughly painted
around me;
not that darkness is so bleak or fearsome,
full of bad dreams that need an ending
or even the pain one suffers alone;
no, none of these realities
describe one’s ailing self
before the unseen impalpable strength
inside one’s soul and everywhere within,
where blackness is a promise of gentle rest,
a way of being whole.