We slip into our darkness
Tattered old gloves worn on matching left hands
While fingerless right hands grope for the illusive light switch
We remember from childish old dreams
Refusing to set us free
This darkness clutches itself in disgust
Joyless masturbation, blank expressions
On faceless strangers we call friends
But deep down we know
There’s no befriending the darkness
There’s no reasoning with the unreasonable
Let alone shadows birthing shadows
In the absence of light
No daybreak to brush off the nightmares
We’ve learned to wear night and day
Only loneliness can reach into our darkness
The place we call home
Because we know it, and it knows us
Like our mothers, who can’t let go
So their pain becomes ours
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Author: Don Iannone, D.Div.
Biography
Photographer, poet, teacher, complementary medicine provider, interfaith minister, and former economic developer. Holds a Doctorate in Divinity, Master of Divinity, Master of Mind-Body Medicine, and Bachelor of Arts degree in Anthropology. Clinical certifications in Reiki, guided meditation, life purpose coaching, and spiritual counseling. Author of 12 books, including two new books in the contemporary spirituality field. Learn more here.
Contact Information
Kosmos Consulting and Research website: https://www.donaldiannone.com/
Visual Advantage Photography website: http://www.visualadvantagephoto.com
Flickr Photo Page here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/don-iannone
Contact Don Iannone by email: diannone@gmail.com
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Poetic Alchemist 
Hmmm…..