Dark

It is dark.

It is dark.

It is dark.

Even a torch would do the trick,

a single light in the consuming dark.

One versus infinity and light always wins--

for we fear what we cannot see,

and when the imagination takes the reigns

it fills in the blanks and creates what we fear,

what we despise. Long shadows and curly fingers

dictate the worst, helpless to regain control,

when down for the count, seeking out light,

only to be tortured by its elusive grasp

or burnt by its immense power, either way,

I'm trying to find that light that rests within.

Outside the window I see the setting light

and inevitably ahead the long, dark, night.

It is dark.