Solace, a midnight’s walk.
Free of the sun’s glare,
It’s endless figurative talk.
Literal, that what I ask, it is all I dream.
Silvery landscapes, moonlight’s fickle haunt.
Lifelong passions, behind in the glow of day.
What else, what else;
Hides in the swell of the rolling stars.
Post-day, it is my pleasure.
In the emptiness of the dark.
Within the lieu of shadow,
Lies something else, something I take to heart.
Without voice; without face.
All I can do to not give up on this place.