The searing light of morningAsks unwelcome questions,Fragile hopes soon blistered by daylight.

Birth our night into dayAnd bathe it clean,So that beloved things can glowTogether in a litter of light.

Sense howEven the smooth stones acheWith stories of their ownIn the shuddering light of day.

The light needs only our trustAnd, of course, the darknessTo work its eternal alchemy.