There are days

There are days

When lights go down

Moths hide in corners

Waiting for a spark

To brighten their lives

Barely able to contain themselves

Bouncing off a ceiling

In need of guidance

To find the flame,

When death is transformative.

The fish in the tank

Just keep swimming

Looking back

Is easier in hindsight

With very little

To hinder the view.

Blind eyes wide

Staring at the ceiling

Working the problem.

Clarity is elusive

Answers are clouded

In superstition

Cursing the moon

For its lazy eye

Refusing to believe

In prayer,

Wishing instead,

Registering no difference

In outcome,

Wondering why

Standing upright

Is a triumph.

When darkness descends

Endurance is thankless

And whatever awaits

There is still no

Easy way

To break through