The Night, Alone

I wake to find, that upon the floor, my wish for waking has broken into a reality. The dream is over, and I, wrapped tightly in this quilt of many patterns, lie in the company of the shadows upon my ceiling, and nothing--no one more. The vast quietude itself is a song that sings to me, and I turn, contemplating the darkness and myself. From off the shelf, I take some words, which comfort me and bring me hope. Someone is there, speaking out of the night, in bold comforting tones. "I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow..." And tonight, I am glad that Roethke holds me so.