Longing For an Ambush

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.