In the corner looking out
beyond the sharp edge of light
there is a darkness waiting to
dilate my senses and sensibilities.
For it was out of the utter black
a word of brightness spoke.
Help me not be afraid
of the basement steps.
The creaking undertones
splaying the anticipation of ambush.
The longing for a surprise attack
that cuts to the spiritual core
of what was behind and before,
with room enough for the I Am.
A fear and afraid melded
into the corner of where I was.
The quonundrum of creation.