The night works to erase

By morning, there’s hardly a trace

Of the old, it makes way for the new

When there’s nothing left in the queue

It’s a moment away, from transcendence

The wait is for our acceptance

Of the fresh and new, not the stale and old

It’s everything, when there’s nothing to behold

When there is fear of not having plenty

It’s becomes a habit not to leave the bag empty

The future can get very testy

When the mind arrives before its ready

Does the mind ever sleep?

When it does, we make a leap

While the world rests in the dark

Dawn may arrive in a momentary spark