The night is quiet, still and clear,
And the moon casts its silvery pale
Over the home cradled on the forest's breast.
The breeze flits softly past the barn,
Happy and funny red by day but now
A slumbering purple giant squatting by the pebbly path.
Fields and pastures spread their blanket
Of swaying corn and grain over the rich black earth,
Awaiting the new day of work and play.
The night is the great black father:
Sleep!, it is time to renew;
Rest with your loved ones, secure
In their presence and safe in my enfolding arms.
The door grates and his eyes flash open,
His heart racing as the night swirling around him
Retreats and gives way to another: I am the dark.
The floorboard creaks as the dark shows the way,
Gloating and encouraging, forcing the warm bed
To give up its helpless offering of trembling innocence.
The dark waves its cruel hand and cold air
Crawls across his slender body, cozy covers and fuzzy pjs
Sliding away, helpless against the creeping cruelty.
The dark is the great black beast:
Awake!, it is time to weep;
Feel the pain and know the shame, cold
In the screaming silence of what you have become.
Current Mood: restless