Poem-A-Day: Day 6

It’s Always Darkest Before Turning on the Lights

It’s easy to lose
track of things when it’s dark,
thoughts tend to push others,
bullying,
pompous,
like the kid still wearing his varsity coat.

Give it up retard.

It’s the darkest part of the day
that pushes every person to
that point,
the tip 
of the iceberg
with so much beneath it.

People fail to mention
everything above it.

The air, wind, gravity
pulling down.
There’s always something pulling down,
lifting up,
and rattling the think-tank
on the countertop.

Like lifting weights,
waits,
looking for something,
but seeing everything instead.

Sometimes it’s hard
to remember
that the icebergs are merely rocks
adorning aqueous tranquility,
slowly melting
into passionate thoughts.

It was too bad once,
but it seems it’s so far beyond
bad,
that it’s good,
graceous, electric candlelight love.

Thoughts through still,
through but not gone,
a slight haze,
though not slighted in the least.
Complacency,
simplicity,

past dreaming,
and well into the night
that’s pitch black,
except for a single star
shining
through clouds.