Mother Night

By Elton Wildermuth, 2000

What if you went on forever?
What if "life" was just an act in the play;
would it still be so important?
Would you wonder whether you should stay,
should hang around here
or just move on again?

What if you were just beginning?
What if night was not the end of the day;
would you like to know her better?
Would you think perhaps that she might say
that you belong there,
welcome you home, and then

say that she thought that you were perfect,
knew that you were good,
that you were meant to be that way
but no one understood,
and never would
nor ever could?

All your life you've heard them say it:
"it's a stage you're going through."
Wouldn't it be funny if it
turned out that was really true,
and no one knew except for you?
Except for mother night and you?

What if mother night were waiting?
What if that was where you really belong;
would you still be so unhappy?
Would you still believe your whole life is wrong,
that no one loves you?
Will you remember when

your mother says that you are perfect,
knows that you are good,
that you were meant to be this way
but no one understood,
and never would
nor ever could?