I try and gather my bearings..through the grog..fight for clarity..for understanding..to bring into focus the many different shades of night’s light. I stare hard as a flood of moonlight expsoes itself through an open slit in the curtains and dances around..looking for a landing spot.
The milky moonbeams..full of shimmer and gloss..finally come to rest softly on the crook of my bruised inner arm. Their luminescent prisms seem to gently bath the bloodtracks and scars in their healing light. I feel enveloped..safe..somehow cared for by the vast and endless universe.
I stare at it for a long time, hypnotic like, wondering from whom this subtle message comes..from what place in the night. Whose world shattered my sleep to bring me this moment..this message that all is not right in my addicted world.
I am somehow greatful for the rude awakening..a faint smile of thanks on my lips as I drift back into the land of a more tranquil sleep.
Every mourn and every night, some are born to sweet delight.
Some are born to sweet delight, and some are born to endless night.