The Quietness of the Night.

In the quietness of the night,

In retrospective of it all,

We handle each situation as it comes,

And face the bitterness of things that have passed.

Things are situated before us, like raindrops on a page-

Or maybe a teardrop, full of rage.

Some things we cannot change, but the things that we can,

We take and hold and grasp them in a gentle grasp,

Molding them into the things that they can become.

Every bitter lie becomes a seed of truth, the truth that flies

In the universe like a night of stars.  The loneliness is trapped

In a shadow of the night, and everything is beamed back to you.

Sometimes, you trip over your own feet, and the wetness is

Falling all around you like drops of rain;

And everything is etched in pain,

Just as it is etched in morning dew.