midnight was once a mystery.
dark matter somewhere in the deep recesses of night that I
would never reach.
a time separated from me by four whole hours
an hour was once a lifetime.
midnight was once a menace.
a dark creature sprung from the shadows of bedroom walls,
a messenger of the cobwebs that inhabited corners,
a hole into which I fell out of dreams.
strange, then, how
midnight is now my reality.
the hour I religiously avoid but inevitably find
in the bright white light of my room
glasses reflecting the screen I face.
as the rest of the world sleeps,
I am awake
greeting midnight as an old friend.