Disquietude

The weight on the heart

as anxiety seeps into one’s consciousness

is sensitivity’s specter in wait,

twisting and turning

like a blind serpent

trying to fill the spaces between thoughts and dreams.

Questions unasked fear the unknown.

Eyes wide open in the pitch black of night

know well the ache of uncertainty,

the shiver of doubt,

the infirmity ache of purpose

as storms within may unleash fury any minute.

Yet…

Within the chaos and erosion,

a glimmer of hope,

a reminder that even clouds move on,

reveal light where the sun’s warmth

is a gift of solace that is always there

for the worrisome spirit,

ever hopeful.