Rest comes with the Darkness

I’m leaving the lights of the city that burn
relentless through night upon night;
bright rays of traffic that pulse through the streets, each
headlamp one photon of light. See

the ghostly fluorescence of shops staking out
a claim on the hours before dawn,
drawing the bodies like moths to a flame:
dark eyed, bereft and forlorn. With

curtains pulled tight, the world wrestles with hope; each
man such a fraud, so alone.
For dark that conceals must also reveal deep
shadows that lurk in their home. True

rest has been banished along with the dark, a
memory of ages past. Now
yesterday bleeds and spills into today until
life appears bleak, dull and vast. It’s

a twenty-four-seven city of men that
live by the artificial glow and
who long to escape ‘neath the cover of dark
but haven’t a clue where they’d go.

So - I’m leaving the lights of the city
I’m returning to where I belong
Where darkness rests heavy and peaceful
Where there’s rhythm and rhyme to the song.