The days light

Consumed by inspirations of the day passed
Many hours into darks grip
Wrestling with the words to convey
Approaching again days light
Not yet sharing in its last appearance
Knowing its story must be told
Fearing it will be lost to its rebirth
Why is this a frustrating reoccurence
Plaguing the storyteller with relentless resolve
Not taking a day to provide the mind rest
A lifetime consumed by its reliability
Though teasing us with its seemingly abrupt existence
Providing us an obvious beginning and end
Its life, long determined by the second
Yet smacking us with its rise and fall
As if we were ignorant to it
Not privy to its every detail
At times enraged at its end, and burdened by its awakening
Forever held hostage by its gift
Finding fault in its presence
Consumed by our failure to embrace it
Promising that with each one passed we will consume its bounty when it returns