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Tonight the gloom came down again,
as though an electric surge had been and gone
and evil birds peck at my senses,
but leave no wisdom behind.
The gloom comes, regular as the passing
of the sun into lonely twilight
barring my paths and turning me upon myself.
Now am I a prisoner.
And this gloom that steals my life away,
wrecks faith and love and hope,
this sadness conquers all of me
I cannot free myself.
I strive with every nerve to grip
hard onto all I was,
and build my patience, to wait and wait
until the light comes on.
© Dubhóc MacEògainn, 2005.