On the Darkest Night I looked to the heavens.
To plead with god and the spirits to take mercy.
As I uttered my silent prayer a soft wind blew.
I caressed my being, fueled my spirit,
and as it passed the thick clouds and heavy rain peeled back from so small a place,
and light again fell to the earth, cushioned by the emerald hills.
The ancient trees glowed as royal silver,
and the brook shimmered catching the light and reflecting across its skin,
and onto the smooth rocks not yet conquered by moss.
My eyes glowed with sudden inspiration,
but then the clouds began to shut.
As darkness again creeped back to smother the heavens.
Eyes yearning they locked on the sky.
Through the shrinking portal shone the stars like diamonds in the darkness,
even as they were swallowed by the wave.
Until finally the last star was blocked from view.
Again the world grew quiet;
the wind died, yet that brief respite had fueled the world.
The trees stood stoic, resiliantly waiting.
The brook weeped small tears, but they were no longer tears of such great sorrow.
Even the hills quietly sang, defiant of despair.
So here now I stood, my head held high with renewed fire in my eyes.
I would live!
Nay I would thrive!
For someday I will break those clouds,
and as they retreat I shall revel the moonlight.
I will endure any pain neccassary to again feel the light upon my being,
and would with greater relish appreciate the privilage.