The Night

Sometimes, she fears the night as she knows it's drenched in solitude

Its not the same as morning confinement.

No matter how much one is cherished and engulfed with love and hope, 

the night can do a number on someone who isn't sure where she's at.

Regardless of it she stays up into the early hours of the morning, 

it is still night, it is still now, and in the mind of a perfectionist, now can be fixed.

Unfortunately, the afflicted fact is there and will remain there until she conquers it.

The recent may be fixed and may be shovelled away and forgotten about

but it will come back, for what is brittle will break.

Unless she builds on the night and becomes immune to the flaws, 

the breaking will never stop.

Sometimes she lays awake when the sky is still dark and the air is still calm.

She listens to the silence of the morning, the new forgiving day.

Even if the only strength she can seem to find is on the brim of her coffee cup, 

telling her its a fresh start, free of yesterday's faults and tomorrow's fears.

Its something.

and that something will pull her through

In Oath.