Morning Here

Today, I am a collection of sighs
and never-ending "why"s
and un-made decisions that pass through
my pathetic excuse for a life, like shadows.
The shadows dance a melancholy jig
upon the barren walls of my heart.
In this galloping agony of life,
there is no joy,
no bucking stallion
to ride into the sunset upon.
The sun descends upon my dreams,
stars emerge, crickets chirp,
and I ask myself,
Where is the dawn?
The light? The illumination?
Why can't it always be morning here?
The night triumphs again,
tearing the searing noon sun
from the dewey morning sky
and leaving only the pincushion of night
pierced by stars to rest my eyes upon
as the curtain of the day is drawn.