And the brightness retreats, taking all clarity.
Here is where the storm boils and spills.
Here is where the shouts come out of exhaustion.
Here is where we let darkness consumes us.

In high school and college, I learned to love the night unlike the nights I used to spend terrified of monsters, demanding night lights. This is where my parents and my sister disappeared into their bedrooms and dreams suspended them, leaving me alone in my room with my books and the family computer. I let the ideas fly from the printed word into my head, unfolding and folding upon itself until it became an inspiration for an idea. I let words unfurl from my fingers onto the keyboard, filtering as 1s and 0s.

But as exhaustion overtakes me and my eyelids feel heavy, I rest my head in my pillow and my arms fall slack. For a second, everything is calm, but without electric light, I bolt up and wonder if there are monsters lurking outside of my sight. I rush to turn on the night light to create my own burst of clarity.