Staring through the dark of night <br />I can just about make out the ceiling, cracks and all. <br />It’s a battered fading plain of white like a rolled up piece of paper <br />Flattened back out again. It must have witnessed <br />Some disturbing truths to be so utterly glum. <br /> <br />I wonder if my slumber will antagonise the aching lines further <br />Only to come limping back to me like wounded soldiers? <br />I think of all those who must have laid here before me – <br />Those who must have emoted the cracks I now stare at. <br />I imagine all those dreams that were held here before mine. <br />And now with these thoughts the cracks become more vivid <br />And I can understand their perpetual tree-branch crawling: <br />I think failures caused these cracks, or perhaps, just perhaps <br />The mere stupidity often associated with our species. <br /> <br />I wonder if my sleep will weather them further? <br />Or heal them to the very core? <br />I long to be taken away to a dream less mean <br />Where everything I know will not be like this stream <br />Of sheer systematic bashing in a world that’s crashing.<br /><br />Seán O Muiríosa<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/cracks-of-night/
