Tag Archives: night

Long Before You Grow to Hate

Her footsteps: a cascade of echos,
Down the halls, unearthly bellows.
Others flee in terror from an unknown fear.
One waits for her motives to be quite clear.
From under the door light betrays,
Where she stops to softly say,
“Come out to play my little one,
The day is over but the night is young.
Think not on the coming days,
Where I’ve to show you where your mind strays.”
She tries the lock, but I’ve planned it
To keep safe from such bandits.
She tries and tries and tries and tries again.
Lights return to normal it seems,
She leaves to find another it seems,
All too late I find I’ve made a grave mistake.
For as I planned and locked my door tightly,
There was a crack open just so slightly,
There to permit a small draft of cold air to enter my room.
As she had so many times before,
Ridden a cold draft beneath my bedroom door,
I swore to myself next time I’d not make the same mistake.
A cruel, cold laughter filled the air
And I, just sat frozen there as each other time she’d come and sing herself softly into my thoughts.
My ego death is nigh and I,
Feel my mind slipping by,
She takes hold of and steps into my mind one final time.
Her footsteps do not seem so painful
As my memory would have been able to remind me so and instill in me this fear.
She walks about and then sits down
She takes for herself a crown,
A crown that once belonged to me and says: “You’ll see, the night will pass and suns will rise
I may become something you dispise,
But long before you grow to hate
You’ll close your eyes and accept your fate.”

One More Sunset

Another sunrise, another day
Another chance to stay and say,
One more noon passes by
One more sunset to catch her eye.
She sees the road, the narrow path beyond,
It is just the same as any other dawn.
She wakes from sleep, though no rest found.
Most nights are spent dreaming
Of fears, of paralyzing past.
Memories through the years abound,
But not so many she would like to last.
The sun has set after a day of reviewing these,
She wonders if tonight is the night that she will find peace.

Dreamer in a Dream

When the dreamer can only see what his dreams allow,
When the mortal can only be
What through their minds can plow,
The dreamer wakes to realize
That all his dreams may seem
Only what his conscious mind
Would safely want to see.
This illusion of a dream
And the night that takes us there,
The illusion of the daylight
And the waking time spent bare.
We are the makings of what dreams we see before fading into rust.
A dream within a dream? No matter. We’ll all soon turn to dust.

Who Reach into the Soul

   There are those who watch our souls from beyond the shadows and behind the vacancy of night, who, wishing to become one and unbeknownst to us, plot to enter and twist the silent minds laid before them, that lay unguarded, for their foolish owners dare not believe in the thieves that threaten at every turn.
   Where shadows speak the spirit longs to flee and I with them, for who knows the length of arm the ones who reach into the soul?

An Unknown Glow

He did not care to think beyond
The night times star and heralds song.
It called for him a dawn brighter.
Brighter, and more clearly so.
Lighter
He tread on through dusks of unknown glow.
With none but his own inhibitions,
He held himself back with these and his suspicions.
He and day. Between them a wall.
His crippling paranoia standing tall.
There pacing back and forth within the boundary of the shadows,
He cannot sacrifice the weight that keeps him in this land so fallow.

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To Those Who Wait

To those who wait,
And those held under:
An unfair debate,
Hopes torn asunder.
Wait, at the end, a light.
But first, a path through dark.
Though there may be countless nights,
From the path I won’t depart.
Once there, such wonderous beauty
Introduces me to fate.
Glad that this has reminded me;
Good things come to those to wait.

Children of the Pride

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In the silence we are one.
Let us go and have some fun.
In her sleeping, mother purring.
Our quiet keeps her from stirring.
In the shadows we are home,
A little place to call our own.
Mothers eyes are open watching,
To the hunt, us, she is calling.
She will show us many things,
Like what the silent night-time brings.
All of this and more we’ll learn:
Where to go straight and where to turn.
She tells us that when we’re older
We, not she, will be the shoulder
For the younger ones to borrow
Who will walk this earth tomorrow.