I never was an early riser

But I didn’t always live so often and so deep in Darkness

I always had Yin and Yang

The light of day and the light of happiness to contain the darkness of sorrow that was born out of my traitor

Golden days of gold and greens. Sky blues and cotton clouds.

Golden, warm days to go with my bitter, cold nights. Nights where the traitor comes.

A traitor he is. For he was meant to be a guardian to me, to be a light for me, to see the best in me.

Instead he be a tormentor and a dementor. An abyss instead of a tower, a black hole instead of a star.

A volcano of rage and fury with wildfires of anger instead a calm hearth of hope, of warm, of welcome

A rain on one’s most joyous parade instead of a herculean lifter of the lowest of spirits. A miser, a Scooge who cries over spilled water when one isn’t suppose to cry over spilled milk.

A lover of material, of money, of mammon when he’s supposed to be a lover of me and other kin.

More dragon than man. Cold blooded is he. Fire breathing and spitting is he. Greedy and a hoarder is he

Not many friends, but their quality made up for a lack of quantity like the most treasured of jewels

Them and mentors, teachers, professors, guides to see the best in me. A fellowship. A hearth at least!

But yet not enough. For I still lack a higher love. Then I spy a single, green light.

It called upon me like the sirens to sailors, like duty to soldiers, like Excalibur and destiny to King Arthur.

Flickers on and off, moves from host to host. Changes shape, changes nature, changes hair, changes voice. All beautiful as Aphrodite with voices of gold

But fail to get to them I do. Been burned in the chase a few times too. The more I burn, the more the darkness I live. The salt in my wounds I get from my traitor along with stabs to the back, with the twisting of knives, and hits when I’m back. The more tears welcome me to sleep. But still I rise for the day

Then once upon a plague, I came upon my latest Angel. Their eyes be a chameleon. Sometimes they be Wise Grey like Athena’s (a mirror into her wisdom and knowledge), sometimes they be green as an English garden. But most of the time they be blue as sapphires

An Angel that had me fall like one in quicksand. For she was the one. The single, green light turned blue.

The single, green light turned mirror where I saw, for the first time, how badly I was cheated. For I was cheated out of a life with them.

Gone be my fellowship, separated were we by the plague and the tides of life.

Now into the darkness of night I live in. My screen, my drug. My drug to forgot. A drug that grows weaker at getting me to forgot what was suppose to be.

My screen, a mirror into the life I was destined to have. I now grow tired near daybreak. I sleep in a cocoon of my covers and blanket. For my misery make it perpetually cold. A body pillow, a shred, a reminder, a placeholder of the Angel I was supposed to be with.

I never was an early riser. But now I ask: Why Rise? For there isn’t much worth rising to.

Why Rise?