Dusty Midnight Morning Hours

The dusty midnight morning

hours, cold and long

There is understanding here

The path is long, and oh so long

ago forgotten, but like daybreak

It is still here

The hours condense into minutes that

used to feel like days, no more.

Twilight is far away, yet it is closer

and is felt in every breath and

every tear.

There is no moment but for this one

in the dusty midnight morning hours

There are no words to describe this

moment, and this feeling, ever present

fleeting and always near.

There is a sense of prison and of confinement

closing walls that threaten to fall

down like a clumsy child

held up only by grace and persistence

and silence, punctuated by screams

and music

These dusty midnight morning hours

Built like trucks and just as heavy

Challenge what single

solitary thoughts cannot say.