Because I like the darkness; it raptures me so,
Strikes me towards the heart; never thought ere saw,
Never thought ere saw, as the gestures mock silent,
Through the bewild’ring footsteps that unto grass fade,
Oblige me thus to follow as I descend further never lost,
Leaving all value of mine; leaving all morality hence,
For within the comfort of darkness, we most truly are blind;
To my right a man sleeps; to my left a man weeps; alas,
Grieves the darkness, but no light bring comfort here, none;
Walks through further, strikes my heart and bleeds in dark,
So that I shall suffer in silence while my pain only grows,
Thus, in the borders of my own world and the next, estrange;
As I continue walking, there’s never a time to stop nor think,
We go and depart; as shadows in the light, though no light here;
That of our shadows lost in darkness great, our souls bleak,
Once we descend to the floor and collapse, thus we see ourselves.

Category:
Mysterious, Nature, Nocturnal, Poetry, Works
Tags:
, , , , , , , , , , ,
%d bloggers like this: