The staccato, contorting thoughts are nearly too many to ferry. The heinous beast is making an appearance, to be sure. I am sometimes aware when it is advancing. But, customarily, its stealth and quick precision capture me with a blind fold that I cannot unbind, relinquishing me into blank obscurity, afraid of what is and what is to come.  

I imagine the kind of darkness on an unlit, rural backroad, in the wee morning hours. Every house  slumbering, every car parked, with  clouds shading the moon and stars into nonexistence.  I am not able to lasso them, in hopes of vanquishing their covering.  Only dawn has the ability to do that. And, dawn takes time. 

So, I will wait for my night to dissolve and for light to quell the beast once more.