The Darkest Hour

The darkest corner of the room
And its macabre vastness.
The darkest hour before dawn
Reigning with total vehemence.

No faces, no shadow, an aide
A vacillating urge to cry out loud.
The medley of emotions built
Weighed upon a mind, too proud.


The harmonics of the hanging clock.
The pendulum, its oscillations
Swinging in a range of thoughts
The cacophony of indecisiveness.

The window across, its narrow slit
The influx of a beam of light.
Carrying in a spectrum of hopes
to last until another night.