Echoes through the Night

His thoughts be trailing, no harp is sound;
His thoughts can only stir, ne not so bad,
Nor not so bad is he who walks gently away,
Who walks through night in search of meaning,
Meaning that only he can never just defy,
Who to defy but is slow to change in time,
To change in time means to rise to be better,
To be better is not to revolt in one’s mind,
Better that he walks silent and slow too still,
Too still was that which his heart would stop,
And his heart was clear, how best it may be,
And the answer’s clear, how much he ought to be,
To be seconds that once they were so fine,
So suddenly fallen into minutes a dainty glow,
How wretched it is a man to move mountains,
To move himself better falling over again,
Again he shall rise whether for what it is,
Whether it be pity or not, can never show,
For it can never show what essence is,
The essence of being part of the picture,
The picture of his paradise once he lost,
Once he lost, so shall he remake again,
Once remade, he shall be whole again.

Conversation with the Night

My night is soon to end, oh a little longer,
Alas so smooth but can never contend my dear,
Who can darkness lift if not to obey the sun?
No light can bring me wry for I am solely there,
This light that scorches me so but only breathes,
Alas so beautiful is the curtain I shroud around,
Colours that once were had only darkened esteem,
What colours if I am only the night to become?
This night that all things in light can never be,
Is not so long that shall I return and bestow again,
A moment for a while that you shall remain with me,
If only more could aspire to my darkening aura,
More do who would traverse the world for night,
My name begins with the night and ends in night.

Loudspeaker

There’s a loudspeaker in my head,
I’ll draw a circle through the sky,
Mine eyes stealing more eyes to see,
My silence corrupt and so, so cruel,
I’ll walk away into the deafening dark,
This mind that talks, these voices go,
No world is greater comfort than mine,
A step to take but an echo miles away,
For a moment before me everyone went,
For a minute just nothing but a pause,
A loudspeaker is all I need: a voice,
Give me hundreds and who would listen?
Smiles around but nothing behind,
The light that has lost its touch,
I’d rather wander through abyss alone,
A loudspeaker in my head is yelling,
Who curls up through the deepest woods,
Who looks up to the moon and sees nawt,
Sees himself within the dark: recoils.

And never

From a slow night he thought to wander,
Was all but thoughts his heart to race,
Thus with little only brought to wonder,
And never faster, and never sought at pace,
Cast away a faint shadow of him borrowed,
And never dims to fall, but only besought,
A flesh that breeches a darkling burrowed,
Sang of past and present and future sought,
He’ll think for the paths he took again,
Nor mirror to tell neither a fool to get,
Mighty his heart but slowly goes against,

A single star

Above was the Universe,
Then were the many stars,
Were then gathered round,
Too bright lest not found,
There was a lone star,
Travelled far across them,
Another star to shine with,
But none, no star to find,
Alas; was the star’s folly,
Rather shine alone than with,
Then the planets turned blank,
Then the echoes slowly dimmed,
A distant noise slow as whisper,
A breeze that soothes is gone.

Story of the Night

There was this river I once knew,
So beautiful was its nightly glow,
But sometimes I would walk past,
But sometimes I would not pass,
And at times the river flooded,
So much pavements were sodded,
Yet someone would always wander,
Yet never knowing what to ponder,
A life so still and so fragile,
Can only be so quiet or agile,

Miles from a Distant Echo

Then sought the path right or left,
Is long weeping a way before bereft,
His feet treading this pathless road,
A distant way is not darkness be showed,
Nor time is but long has been fought,
Nor silence is he that hours is wrought,
Pulls the mud with him this stricken way,
Pulls the light from vacuum where it lay,
Vapes another lest more is anger fed,
Bows before a rain what place he’s led,
And but phone is to guide him to place,
Is but done the choice he has to face,

Flight of the Raven

With what choice am I in vain not to choose,
For that road in wait here guides me follow,
At last find myself from Universe far,
Though closer to Earth in way orbiting
I will go the way and never aback be said,
To walk through the wind and shatter now,
Then this empty world invites another,
Somehow it whispers a name in shadow,
I’ll walk through the black and back,
Nor daring, am a mute bird in shadow,
There’s a beak I’m missing to become,
No wings as I’m feathered in the dark,
Read mine eyes that casts an arrow,
Soak my heart in black ink all night,
But I won’t write to fly away this night,
Ere my wings in molten wax be covered,
Nearby I’m silently landing towards you.

*

One step at a time they arrive,
At once part their heathen ways,
Alights the shadow as once it were,
If light were vacant and me derive,
A fairness that blooms hither in day,
As such where night falls I blur,
By stones that roll they never sleep,
As sounds their crashes I fall too deep,

Silent night

But in honours the star they reach,
Sure made their children to teach,
Once it sparkles so did their eyes,
Then to a father they rise,
His minutes the hours the minutes his,
There stands outside and walking this
Man who knew not where to sight,
Beheld cranberries soaked in light,
For his half and children poured,
Stops short his breath; tears soared,
Passes the mulled wine their holy ester,
Is not what he’d dream have in Leicester,