Sometimes late at night I scour my heart to find someone to evoke a poem. Tonight it is your face I behold. I hear your breathe so seldom my ears yearn for its rythm to put me at ease. Don't you sense me, ready to break into being at your touch? I love these dark hours of my being. My mind deepens into them. When I lean over the chasm of myself it seems so dark. But I perfer the dark for it encompasses everything. The light only encompasses that which it has illumintaed.