NOON

Blistering,
so blinding
in the stark midday textures,
bluntly define
each outline and meaning
with such crisp clarity.

Confidence in the brilliance's reality
is a surrogate god,
unable to be worshipped
when night crowns the mind.

But in the midst of such light's illusions,
the creeping, crooking fingers
from the shadows of doubt,
always rake the mind in twitches of fear's waters,
trying so hard to damn that river
behind a wall of optimism.

Then the rumble from circumstances quakes,
rupturing the barrier,
floods of uncertainty, tainted by panic,
rush over the soul.

It swallows our pedestal of reliance,
until the light warming us and giving such aliveness,
drowns in the swollen swells of dark despair.