The Quiet Thought

The Quiet Thought

It arrived without a warning,

small and calm and well behaved.

A thought that asked a simple thing,

then quietly stayed.

It spoke in reasonable tones,

never raising its demand.

Doubt does not need to shout,

it prefers a gentle hand.

Each night it sat beside my bed,

reviewing every past mistake.

Listing moments out of order,

asking what else it could take.

The thought wore logic like a coat,

wrapped itself in careful sense.

By morning it felt convincing,

by evening it felt immense.

I argued with it in whispers,

afraid of what might be true.

Some battles are fought in silence,

with no one else in view.

Eventually I named the voice,

and felt its power reduce.

Dark thoughts thrive in secrecy,

they weaken when exposed to use.

The thought still visits now and then,

but no longer owns my space.

Darkness loses authority,

once you learn to see its face.