The night is dark and full of terrors.
Last light retreated behind the furthest hills
And darkness crept forth;
Timidly at first, then bolder and raging–
A hand reaching from the vastness
To seize another dawn into its embrace.
And with it came demons
That trifle with men’s souls,
Leaving them flayed, defenseless,
Laid open to the savagery of those
With less mercy than guile.
And I lie awake and wide eyed;
For the night is dark and full of terrors.

Behind the shutters of our days
An epic battle is underway.
One that consumes and destroys;
One that hones and rebuilds–
Adversaries that define us all.
At the clashing of these two armies,
In the frontline of chaos,
There we stand, an unwilling collateral
Sacrificed on the dais of apprehension.
The alter of twilight.
Whispered warnings as the tumult envelops us–
Ominously whispering
That the night is dark and full of terrors.

But struggle as it might
The darkness and terrors are disarmed
By the most modest of things–
Delicate glows, mere specter
Growing to vivid brilliance.
Lighting a path, or a room
In the most obscure halls of our hearts.
And behind these beacons we marshal;
They temper our mettle,
Turning night into day,
Desperation into expectancy,
And grant us the courage to prevail–
When the night is dark and full of terrors.

Copyright © Keanon Tinney

Disclaimer: The image used herein is taken from the Internet. Due appreciation and credit is acknowledged for the same.

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