5am

It´s 5am, I rub my bleary eyes, and peer into the darkness; the earth has paused from her exhaustive spinning and bathes in the frosty glow.

This is the time to waken my demons and dance in the silence, the world is too peaceful and sleepy for my monsters to hurt me.

How they caress my goosebumps with a silken touch and soothe my racing heart, to show me that, they too rest from their wicked ways.

They know I am compelled to write, they know the darkness draws out my inner most thoughts and writes them on the walls;

And, they know too, that I am no longer afraid to embrace my ghosts and whisper each of their names. But where are the others?

There must be others out there, listening to the rain on the roof, looking for lights in windows; but, do they go to their desk and write?

We dreamers, are all poets and writers navigating by the stars to steal the dreams of sleepers and write what can’t be spoken.

If you are out there, writing like me, know that you’re not alone, we are all here with our shaitans watching over us, waiting for the next dance.