sometimes the night ahead stretches infinitely away
a masked ghoul of loneliness,
and doubt
with no promises of the redemptive value of day.
the night--
too shallow to soak up all my regrets
yet so long, i fear i'll be unable to make it to shore
except, somehow i've done it all before
stumbled past sad mountains
and make-believe graces
and poison-laced songs
and heavy, hollow prayers.
waded through the trappings
to find the endless forgiving possibilities
of morning
