Above It All

Encapsulated in a memory and
Pressed into the cold bed by its weight, then
Pushing it away like the ironic comforter, I

Meet the dry chill of the room, which
Refreshes for a while, until again I've
Grown cold and unimpressed with myself.

Oppressive darkness, to which my eyes are
Acclimating, clings to every surface as I
Scan absently their veiled textures, but

Noticing, among them all, a faint light on the wall
Working its way through barren branches, not intended to
Find me, but silently, above it all,

Reaching my darkness.