I frequent a well-lighted cafe'. <br />Outside, wraiths wander in the darkness, <br />a realm of hungry ghosts. <br />This morning even Death was there, <br />wrapped in a beggar's blanket, <br />turning to look at me. <br /> <br />This world is not separate from that one. <br />I came in from the dark, <br />but as I sit, and read and write, <br />the shadows seem to lighten, <br /> <br />and when I leave, <br />it shall be into Sunrise.<br /><br />Max Reif<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/at-6-30-am-starbucks/
