, , ,

Joining scattered corners of the night

is the wistful whistle of a train


Through the mesh of dreams

and slumber

I hear it – another day

on its way.

Todays knotted unthinkingly

with tomorrows; days smelting into

twilights; nights wedded to

orange dawns.

The new day always arrives

at my gate. Swaggering in its

light, it does not care what

hopes burnt low yesterday

nor what despair disfigured the hours.

Bludgeoning demons of the dark

the insolent day thrusts itself

upon me. Day after day.

One night the train

will bring the reaper

to my gate, and the unhappy

night will grumble, curse,

clench its fists.

To no avail.

The arrogance of the day

will give me away.