Sunshine

Why is it that the dark where light is absent brings us fear,
as if where vision is impaired and shape and form denied,
we are more vulnerable; surrendered to potential and unknown,
which forces mind to reason, process and decide,
if that which can be sensed, or heard or felt in blackest night,
can be explained away; dismissed beyond the edge of what is real?

Why is it that when sunshine breathes in precious gasps again,
are phantoms, terrors, brittle dreams so easily dispelled,
and heaving breasts of horror settle slow, to rest upon the pillow,
letting go of all that was imagined; stories blackness tells,
like whisps of smoke in deliquescent drift upon fresh morning;
all substance disappeared wherever brightness lays?

Because through ancient times, and all our cells contain,
we carry truths of demons, dangers, born in places without sight
forgetting in those moments when nothing can be seen,
such fears are but ephemeral; no place in modern worlds for them to hide,
and even sunshine, once the only source to succour peace of mind,
is now replaced, by one brief switch, so darkness is restrained.