| Woken in the night |
| Not by an idea, but by a dream |
| something just before the pinnacle of a real nightmare |
| where the feeling comes from a heart burned and still peeling. |
| The editor's words left lattice marks on your soul. |
| Few are not reason enough to brave an indifferent world. |
| Awake in the night |
| Afraid your confidence was only wishful thinking. |
| no tears, no ashes; |
| only words remain |
| Shadows...pillars...legacies...wedded thoughts...refracted tears...words. |
| You get up, take the darkness the dream woke, and write it down. |
| That's what you were made to do. |
| In the day, |
| with the silver flame falling back into your world, |
| You still know. |
| Being a writer, |
| even shouting in the dark-- |
| you don't know who's out there, |
| but you have faith. |
| That's what you were made to do. |
| --January 2005 |