Face the Night
Alone is what I wanted to be
A chance to finally breathe
Without an anchor on my heart
But I knew it wouldn't be very long
Before I heard that siren song
I had no choice at the time
But to stand up and face the night
I thought that with an island of doubt behind
I could make it through the night
And not have to face a thing
But I was much too blind to see
What was right in front of me
Till you looked me in the eye
And I stood up to face the night
You can't always wait till the time is right
You can't always wait for the warmth of the morning light
I will be your king and you can be my queen
We won't miss a thing if we stand up and face the night
This is a song about a man who seeks to cure his loneliness with aloneness, and finds that the price of his contentment is the loss of intimacy. For him, the weight of loneliness may be temporarily lightened by others, but can only be eliminated by embracing aloneness.
Loneliness cannot be cured by company. Aloneness is being cured by your own company.
He finds nobility in the idea of facing the night, that home of bad habits, preconceptions, pretensions. It’s the willingness to be accountable – to others, but most significantly to the self.
The risk he runs when using aloneness as a cure for loneliness is in using it to avoid accountability, and to justify his own evasions.
Ultimately, facing accountability can only be turned into action when he recognizes the self in the other and the other in the self.
Meeting a worthy partner is a call to arms. The moment chooses you.
A mature person has the ability to turn loneliness into aloneness without sacrificing togetherness. Aloneness offers communion with the whole; togetherness offers communication with its parts.
“Alone” and “together” are eternal quiet lovers.