Night

The night does not resist the end,
It welcomes darkness as a friend.
The truth creeps in beneath the door,
A light we could not see before.
The mists of chaos clear away,
The dust that settled in the day;
The mind no longer cast adrift
Receives the silence as a gift.

It finds its rhythm once again
Beyond the worry and the pain:
Secure, deliberate, and deep,
A slow peace found within the sleep.
‘Tis not in revelations grand,
Nor lightning striking on the land,
But in the quiet breaking through
Of all the things we thought we knew.

The dark gives way, not all at once,
But in a slow and weary trance;
Just as the tide retreats from land,
To leave the smooth and washed-out sand,
So night recedes and leaves the shore,
More truthful than it was before.