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Most likely the day has arrived

I did not sleep last night

before dawn I watched
the changing light
through bedroom curtains.

From a cold dark gray,
the soft folds of cloth grow
lighter
and lighter while
my heart
burns
out.

I stare at a single point
of gold
it’s the size of a pencil eraser
in a field of gray and beige
most likely a porch light across
the busy street.

The tiny light is the only spot
of warmth.

It draws me
yet I cannot gather the
mental energy to do anything
other than just stare
blank-minded.

The tiny light
disappears.

Most likely the day has arrived.