Writing to Dawn

As I sit here and write the night bites my mind takes flight to my brother, my past, the things of light I used to be so sure I was sure the world was a lure and I had the cure but now I'm unsure Age supposedly brings wisdom and questions and this here is my confession: I just don't know. That might be a low blow that blows because 18 year old me was ready to grow but growing is through pain and as the night starts to wane I see myself in the future holding a cane Will I become tame? Or like a lion, uncaged? These questions are haunting and where once I was flaunting, in reality I've been tried, judged, and been found wanting. The dawn is breaking, my fingers are shaking, the moon is waning And to the darkness the light is tainting. I'm less confident and so here I sit. Writing. Fighting. Delighting.