Dark Ceiling at 2:17 a.m.

After a night of wrestling flannel
I remember what it was like to explore a dark ceiling,
lines like a jigsaw falling apart,
praying for a guardian to gentle my mind.

Fear was that lonely button at 2:17 a.m.
swinging crazily from a trapeze over my heart.
I was disturbed into being awake and aware of each heated thought.

The eternal was quietly there
to encourage faith in something.