Some Mornings

I awoke with fires in my head;
They fanned out with a quickening spark,
That inspiration found in the quiet nights
And lonely highways where my mind
Wandered, and we held onto fading thoughts.

No, they were not the kind to shake me gently
Or care to dance me into day's light
Rather, thoughts burned screaming
To be released and washed into an ocean
Of noise that the world already had room for.

Why does this dream haunt me so?
Is there a return yield on investment
That I was unaware I sowed into,
Long prayers uttered in the darkest hours
And awakening ancient rhythms to my lips?

A party, some say at times:
Others, simply voices
Making the mind bend to allow for things
That only seeded fear would shake
That someday will collapse into canyons of memory.

One voice rests quietly within
Stillness seeping down into the cracks
Where the fires once blazed violently
The balm to soothe this weary mind--
The voice gives life where life once left.

Yes, it is the flicker of hope
An ember caught as a fragment
Of some long-forgotten fight
That rises as a light to dismantle fearful shadows
As the fire in my head is slowly quenched.