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"the howling wind bullies: "the howling wind bullies this night to tears"   Fiercely imaginative! Your entire depiction seizes the experience of being at war with a brutal, endless night. The storm, as both physical atmosphere and a metaphor for the inner struggle, is almost audible. A memorable work of art.   

Thank you, I really: Thank you, I really appreciate you taking time to read my poem. Unfortunately, despair is an all too familiar feeling. Sometimes overwhelming, I try to focus on building a better version of myself every day :)

The declaration "I no longer: The declaration "I no longer want to feed the darkness" is a powerfully stated and highly self-aware breakaway that shows great strength of character. Most of us, at least at times, find it easy to get caught in a loop of destructive self talk, but your advice is the first, unavoidable step toward recovery.   A life-altering progression from despair to hope. Wonderful, valuable work.      

The inadequacy of my words in: The inadequacy of my words in the presence of this poem is embarrassing to me.  And though you always understand what I mean to say, even if I am not always successful in saying it, I fear that others who are less understanding or tolerant will take my remarks as either self-serving or overly obsequious.   My Ad Astra series began, and continues to exist, because of your encouragement, your humane compassion, and the example you set (as both a Human Being and a Poet) on Postpoems.  You are not only one of the supreme pillars of this community, you are also a Tower of spiritual illumination to which the Alexandrian lighthouse would be only a trite metaphor.  I can still remember the thrill I experienced, three years ago, when I first read Gates Of Orion, just three days before I was discharged from the hospital; and then, after that, Council Of Stars.  And I realized that everything I had learned about reading Poetry (learned, of course, by a study of Poets deceased well before I approached their words) was demonstrated and exemplified by you, the supremest of Living Poets.       And, in choosing to post this poem at this time, you have brought me the answer to an unspoken prayer, at precisely the time I needed that answer.  For that, I thank the Lord and I thank you.

Though it may be to your: Though it may be to your disappointment, I do hope that far more people than not have their mental and emotional guns aimed at that ash pile and on the ready, because I do anticipate a pheonix attempting to arise at some point.

Mainstream unreporting: Mainstream unreporting usually finds "air time" in poetry and the other arts. And that is rightly so in a way of thinking.

So many monumental lines: So many monumental lines thunder in this sublime journey. The emotion is palpable, and the vehicle for that emotion is a clean, natural, startling work of art. I'm loving how you animated leaves and reminded us of unseen wonders in the "crowded soil" and showed us your sorrow when "the face of the sky" turned "grey" upon touching the ground.    An astonishing expression.