Depression

I interrogated my mourning,
until my inner core ceased to be
all that it was.
The sane filtering
of old drums banging into quiescent
had longed for a walkway,
to heal this noise for some time.
Someone told me that darkness
comes before the dawn.
As the galaxy unrolled,
the winnow of reason opened up a porthole.
Reminiscing, I reached for oblivion.
When a new star burns the universe has already
gardened a place for its radiance.
Did I forget that the stars shift
when a heart envisions awe?
I think I had.
Tears falling.
The dawn is coming.