When the night steals the memory of day
and hope is lost in the struggle to be -

all that is, becomes despair-
too much, too much.
Ears that cannot hear,
hearts that cannot love,
my voice silenced before I speak.
Afraid--deep fear and confusion,
a hideous deception of what never was.
Hiding, but naked still;
stripped of self, of truth
while never knowing.
Truth turned a liar.
Deceit, all glorious of another morn,
stealing the wealth of intent
given on the broad pathway of love
now mired in mud and distrust.
What foolish questions linger
to steal our joy and leave us bare;
eyes staring at nothingness
longing to see, blinded yet
without anchor or oar.
Reaching hands that grasp but air
-longing, longing, longing-
but, no hope to fill the empty space.

 Afraid to speak, to hear, to be.

When the night steals the memory of day
and hope is lost in the struggle to be -