It was a long night

Waiting in the cold of darkness.

I could hear

But not see.

I could feel

But not touch.

I could think

But not dream.

I could hope

But not be comforted.

I was only one with myself.

Slowly, nearly imperceptibly,

The light of the new morning

Infiltrated the darkness.

And the long night began it’s retreat.

As the shadows melded

And then faced a new direction.

The light of day preceded the leisurely rising Sun.

The darkness now gone,

It’s shift expired,

The cold and blindness vanished with it.

Night is the time we search our souls,

Seeking what we cannot find in the light of day.

Our pains and secrets,

Our fears and feelings,

Our hopes and our hearts,

They all seem less vulnerable

In dark of the night.

Yet, more the real.

There is no light to blind us,

No sound but our own.

The only thing we feel

Is ourself.

Our only hope is what we dream.

And of whom we dream.

And I, myself, I dream of you,

and you,

and me.

For in the dark grey of night

When dreams become our reality,

And we are all captives of our inner selves,

Until we wake,

Let us not fear the darkness.

Nor rejoice in its cocoon of peace.

For in as much as the morning sunshine pushes away the darkness

So will reality replace our dreams.