it is a quiet night.
everything is ok.
but not in the mind,
like two uneven bricks in the wall
waiting to bring the house down.
this too will pass and someday
there will be flowers and green grass and
a warm glowing sun
the sun will stay up and the nights
will become easier.
the hope is there and believe me,
I'm working on it but sometimes the nights engulf
and eclipse and swallow me until
I can not move or think,
or think to care.
not caring is easiest.
it's the greatest truth and universal surrender
when
nothing moves you.
there's no more to cry for when
acceptance is truth.
what comes to pass often leaves scars
but scars
are seldom beautiful.
they are the reminders of bad verse,
bad love. experience.
and though I would like to
end this poem,
I would rather lay down,
close my eyes and try to think of nothing more
but endless space.
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