Night

An inspired night so potent,
That does churn state of repose,
Brims feel, jabs sense,
And numbs presence to all else.

Cool clairvoyant midnight blue,
Does bring forth stores of latent muse,
That sinister sunshine's blinding hue,
Does render lost and buff confused.

Drizzle perceived by ear alone,
Prompts feel of flow of time and space,
A grim sense of task undone,
Grips to life a tramping gaze.

To fumid vision, all is shut,
That does not act in strictest bind,
But its gauze can veil one not,
If refuge is wrought in mageing mind.

In this darkness, delight dwells,
Of stealth stroll through wary walks,
Where stalwart conscience weighs one on,
And fears no anger, love nor scorn.

A breeze, a mist, the spangled sky,
A quiet privity does endow,
Daylight's cheer nor rabble joy,
Does the balmy night bestow.

All morn, the common reason wakes,
And shapes commands to mortal hours,
But shift-eyed twinkle shade it takes,
To stab the sleeping soul awake.

Of secluded order, each aware,
Struggles to be amidst the odds,
But the vaster canvas doth appear,
To one who vents to pulse beyond.

Shut eyed visions, fancy's plays,
Discordant strips of coloured fear,
Do, harass, maul, and pain severe,
The one within.

To decadent dawn, now do head,
To harsh new ways that do unscroll,
This revelation, then must end,
For shocking glares are in store.

The first bright villain blazons,
And kills the drowsed delighting gloom,
Come again, bitter ease,
That each channel does engage.