Sometimes, deep in the night, I hear the wind outside my room,
and I begin to think of age, of geology and the ancientness of matter,
then I become very sad because of the temporariness of us, because
of the impermanence of all of us, Yes it is beautiful and horrific and sad
all at once,

Sometimes, deep in the night, I find my nightmares coming quickly with
bared teeth, slinking through my drowsy defenses, and I become afraid of
what could be truly inside me,

Sometimes, deep in the night, I feel the sorrow of it all, the deep
rich sorrow, like midnight waters under a new moon, like living oil
in the bowels of the earth I feel it as my bones resonate it in unison
with the low pulse of the stars,

Sometimes, deep in the night, I know I am slipping into mediocrity,
and I fear the day I forget that there ever was marrow to be had,

Sometimes, deep in the night, there is no poetry in my words, there
is only a specter of a shadow disappearing into the night, black
is only black, and the rain will never come,

Sometimes, deep in the night, I know the truth, and it is the void,
and it nothing, and yet it is everything, there are separate truths
I think between night and day, one of shadow, one of night,

Sometimes, deep in the night I can hear my children crying from some
distant time, and I wonder when I will meet them,

Sometimes, deep in the night, I know, eventually, I will die,

But most times, deep in the night, I am only flesh and
my god died young, though I still pray for the dawn