Morning By Mourning

I rise from my rest
to find nothing of the morning.
Nothing new for me to see.
Nothing new for me to believe.
Only the spirit of the dark
that leads me into my day.

I don’t really remember that day,
when my body was laid to rest.
The top closed in the dark,
never giving me another morning.
They say, “see to believe.”
I believe the night is now all I see.

I wish I could tell you what I see
but down here, I see each day
ending with nothing to believe.
My mind has yet to find rest
for there truly are no mornings
only the violence of the dark

Only the silence of the dark
repeats for me to hear. I see
nothing, never again the sun of the morning
or the quiet breeze of the day
only a night without rest,
that’s the only thing I can believe.

I should have believed
when He revealed the light in the dark.
He gave me a chance for heavenly rest
I wish that I could see
how hell haunts me day to day
And blackens my every morning.

I do blame Him, however, for my mourning.
If He was so good, I do believe
he wouldn’t let me perish on that Day.
My life could not the avoid the dark
if he was good. But here I am, you see,
so maybe He doesn’t really give rest.

In the morning, I conquered the dark.
This poet did not believe in me. He couldn’t see
that on the final day, I will truly give eternal rest.