Darkness roils.
Chokes dams and infants
a force that appears to clog opportunity
Angry, hands tied to bi-polar swing
state of emergency alternates with somnolence
pendulum regular
Groups sway to a chaotic yet predictable rhythm
distracted by temptation
Pulled by illusion
And then, the syrup of night
which once manifested gigantic muscular hands crushing tendon and bone
surprisingly faded to weak
without the shadow of doubt or fear to feed it.
The child awoke from a nightmare.
Comfort of light painted relief from dark terror
The absence of light was nothing but spinning, stories spun from habit
and the passive creation of real life
The awakened child knows better.
Crayon in hand
She draws the world she wants to live in.
Smiles.
Comforted by her own power.
Intuitive botany 