For all the nights thatdarkness laid at my feetand I stared into oblivionhoping it…
I wishyou never left
The crack of thunder’s pouring rain, disturbs slumber, as half the moon plunders time, each…
for some, night will be that pageon which they will spill ink.
Owls must breathe in banshee breathto exhale that much lonelinessclothing the night…
An Ode to the Moon (I)