Things go bump in the night

Things go bump in the night.

That’s when it is dark.

That’s when the sounds are muffled.

That is when the distractions of the day have drifted off.

During the day

your eyes are following the tip of the magic wand,

you listen to the patter of the illusionists,

and then at night,

when you lay your head down,

weary from failing to discover how life works,

from not being able to control your thoughts

even when you are trying,

you submit -

you do not will yourself to sleep,

you can only fall.

But things go bump in the night.

And then, your eyes are opened,

but you see nothing but the night light from the bathroom.

Your ears are perked,

but you hear nothing but the heater kicking on.

When you have nothing more important to do than sleep,

your mind alerts you that you are mistaken.

Something is out there,

waiting,

breathing,

not death -

maybe -

life.

You are not about to be attacked in your bed,

you are being summoned to understand the thing

beyond your grasp the day before,

the year before.

Of course, you are mistaken.

This is merely what has been called

the dark, tea time of the soul,

the witching hour,

the time good little children should be asleep.

Still, after a time,

and another time,

and you look at the time glowing

above your head one more time,

you rise.

And when you have satisfied your curiosity,

when you have noted the thought that wakened you,

you will get a glass of water,

and go back to bed.

You will not make sense in the morning,

and you will not make sense in the night.

It is merely your unconscious mind,

bumping into the furniture of life.