Always Another Day

A paradox this Question of order. Is morning prelude To the darkness Or to night? Or is night Prelude to the light Of morning? We are Accustomed to night Settling in, the weight Of a darkness that falls. We talk ourselves into Believing light to be, Well, light. Sunrise— Life’s morrows and all that. A paradox this Matter of order. Morning prelude to Darkness and darkness Prelude to bright. Night Follows day and day night. The circadian algorithm. Night gives birth to day And then day has its way Until the light fades. So it is, we gain or lose insight, Accustomed as we become To the in-betweens—dawn, Golden hour, dusk, twilight. We believe light buoyant-- A wave that flows and glows, While granules of dark settle, Sediment of despond beyond Our simple capacity to blink— Or sometimes even to think.