Another Night, Another Nightmare

IT IS VERY STILL AND DARK

ANOTHER NIGHT, ANOTHER NIGHTMARE.

I HAVE A RECOLLECTION OF A MOON,

AND BRIGHT SHAFTS OF LIGHT

FROM THE NEIGHBOURING HOUSES,

AND SOME OTHERS, DIM BUT SCINTILLATING,

FROM FAR AWAY DISTANCES

BUT THEY HAVE BEEN OBLITERATED

ONE AFTER ANOTHER

BY THE QUIET

BUT DECISIVELY PERVASIVE

DARKNESS.

THE TREES THAT SALACIOUSLY SWAYED

IN THE BREEZE, SLEEP,

SINCE THE BREEZE SLEEPS, AND THE BIRDS;

AND HOUSES, AND WINDOWS

AND PEOPLE BEHIND THOSE WINDOWS, SLEEP.

THE LAST DOG JUST BARKED AWAY INTO SILENCE,

AS THE STREETS SLEEP.

NOTHING MOVES, LIVES, EXCEPT DARKNESS,

WHICH BREATHES: OR IS IT MY

OWN BREATHING? I CANNOT

TELL THE DIFFERENCE.

IT IS SO DARK, SO STILL, FOR THE NIGHT SLEEPS.

IT IS NIGHT, OR IS IT NOT:

I CAN HEAR THE FAINT SOUNDS OF LIFE

STIRRING HESITANTLY, RELUCTANTLY,

COMING ALIVE

COAXED BY THE NEWBORN SUN.

IT IS NO MORE NIGHT,

AND ANOTHER NIGHTMARE IS OVER,

TO MAKE ROOM FOR ANOTHER;

EXHAUSTED, ENERVATED

I WILL NOW PRETEND

TO GO TO SLEEP.