i woke,

i woke, not from a recumbent state

but from the gray in light, a closed

door, a down shade on the window

that obscure the stars of night

for so long i’ve lived in reverie

where peddles on a white lily

are pristine, the azure sky hides

and dispels a daring hue and thus

darkness is hidden from the blue

i hear the cries of hunger some unheard,

the screams of anguish from death’s hand,

a child is not a wolf left alone in the woods,

the aged all alone on streets of cobblestone

no one sees them, no one cares except the lonely

i woke, not from a recumbent sleep

but from voices of the dark trying to scare

the light. it is i who must not be burdened

by fear, shall lift the shade and open the door

so that light pierces the dark letting ingress 

and egress to be free