It comes in the dark
After the failures: regrets, burdens of the mind.
It comes to a man of some promise
Who doubts his Creator
Who doubts his own heart
Who doubts the hope - though it is his core.
The hope is buried
It’s very thing suppressed.
The hope is despaired
Though it froths with great strength.
The hope calls the slumber to end,
The hiding to become boldness,
The fear to take its place again and again as nothingness.
A single light,
Here on my hand.
Entering my mouth
At this dark moment.
Dark depth and silence
broken by industry, or fatigue, or frivolity.
All these being good, properly conceived.
We don’t do sarcasm.
We do raw honesty.
We rise from the errors.
We battle the enemy of the strength.
We rise to earthly service and find light’s source.
After and through the yielding to momentary death:
Joy and hope never flagging.
Joy and hope always regnant. 
