The dark does give us things.

Quiet restitude, vainglorious dreams.
Safe places to lay our thoughts down
And wheedle wonders from our brains.
To ponder in the dim is to have answers
Dance bright before you clear like vision;
Quite resolved from any squabbles
The dark gives us serious contemplation,
A more ominous sort of delight.

The darkness and the subconscious are akin.
When the light does leave
Things of wet looking black eyes make way
Upward into being.
The dark brings about the things lost,
Long forgotten,
Never found.
It peels the body as a fruit,
To lay bare the insides;
Our guts tucked deep for too many hours
Now have room to breathe.

The coalescence of moonlight, shadow,
And the silence of the lamplight time,
Is when all the sight falls way to sense;
Smell, feeling, tickles of the unknown.
So gone very far
From what we so evidently know;
Clandestine creatures exists
But are never seen except by the darkness beam.

Require darkness,
As you require eat and drink and sleep.
The dark gives us things;
Roaring under all the light truths hide away,
Waiting patiently, waiting poetically,
For the setting sun, the coming night.

The dark gives us things.
Let the insomnia sing, the unseen flourish;
Give yourself to it when you weep,
Creep in worry, when you fear.

The darkness will set you right, my dear.