Wee Hours - an #improv #poem about darkness and light

Once again awakened, too early,
I look into the darkness for
Answers.
I notice that the only answer
It holds is the one
About light.

Fear hovers in the sheets.
It draws from past memories
About similar stories it
Holds as failures:
Of melancholy aloneness
That seemingly had no
Redeeming qualities;
Of grief that brought torments
And tears of both loss and
Self-pity;
And of the regret that waited
Under the bed of self-doubt.

But tonight, this fear (though
Present) is lost
In the interplay of desire and
Longing.
They are a brilliance like the
Center of the fire
And blanket the room with hope.
With their warmth and light,
Neither the return to sleep
Nor the eventual awakening
With the dawn
Seems daunting.
Instead, the anticipation of
Daylight hangs as a backdrop
For dreams in the wee hours:
Filled with love’s sunlight
Streaming through windows
And doors opening to passion
(that I had not even noticed until fear
Accidentally exposed it).