Sung upon my brow that dainted blood writ,
Felt me this morning that woke me that shine,
This sun that transpires through me that gay glow,
Whose great command did upon me stood for day begin,
Alas! For more the day that time expire for I to night delay,
That soothes me thorough a warmer fire than what cold may,
However, this light is only my great’st enemy that I long lay,
And frail of my own sight could blind me that I confront her,
For not the light that gives me way, but the night that feels me,
That likened me to the raven pass whence I lay upon this bed,
Utters my name that shrieks not the ghost of my own flesh,
And frantically asks for my name that be hollowed as His,
Amid theirs does countenance not prove my resolved asound,
In this evening that does pass and shall await ye my longing night,
That I long for ye the darkness that binds me whole, wholly alive,
Lingers among all, and waves back when only asked for;
Across the field do not I slowly clothe myself with light’s eclipse,
And of my shadow faux do I not befriend that this be my god,
All around, that dark aura that prevails about and around me,
Walks deeper as consumed as I towards the beckoning night,
Bade farewell to all and light, as what journey ahead does call.

Category:
Mysterious, Nature, Nocturnal, Poetry, Works
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