The Late Night Guest, Visit III of IV

and if i wake in the hour of anger
not late enough for an early morn
nor early enough to be a late night
when thoughts quicken with energy to burn

is this visitation a response
to too much taken in out of habit
or maybe not enough inhabited
or something altogether different?

it feels like a wasteland
this manic moment in between
a purgatory of panic, no royalty its own
but a long abandoned queen

mild mannered cautions against playing with fire
against passion and fury rising in tremors
don’t account for what bursts forth
as white hot rage from smothered embers

those well meaning admonishments
chorus to the verses pitched against purpose
fail to see the value in the warmth of will
accomplishments and failures born of desire wordless

the dangers of walking near 
the forest edge are manifold
within sight and safety of home
yet hearing the far off call of kindred untold

what is it about these places 
uninhabited and unexplored,
like standing too close trying not to breathe,
that eventually come knocking on our door?

i might stay in the garden close to home
away from the inner wilds if i’d had my druthers
but am drawn to answer that fierce call 
even though some strangers are stranger than others