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|This is a poem concerning someone I know that has tried to be there and to protect me since I was a little girl. I do not think he has ever had a name, well not a human one at least, until I called him Night, because to me that is what he is. In this poem I try to explain what it is between Night and me. Sometimes, I can't even begin to define it... or him, for that matter...||
I look up and see the bleak darkness of Night,
And yet I also see the crimson of the sun as it shreds away its glow upon the horizon.
The dark guardians of our souls,
Appear and gaze down upon us like glittering gems in a sea of ebony.
The moon is full and radiant,
It’s light allows my night eyes to see …
… to see the beauty which surrounds me.
The ivory clouds of day above flee from the darkness of Night.
Driven by a wind which is not seen,
not felt upon dead skin,
or in cold blood,
or by my night eyes.
I sit and see with my night eyes.
I sit and listen with my night ears.
I smell the spirit of Night,
And hear the flap of the wings of darkness.
I hear the fair folk gliding away on their wings of bells,
As they fade with the light,
Running from Him.
As Night comes once again.
The moon is here,
And lights my way.
I embrace Night,
And hide from humanity.
I race to Him,
And at that moment the light does not matter anymore,
For I am a child of Night,
And with Him the light cannot harm me.
I am the one with the winds of the dead blowing through my hair,
I am the one who bears the wisdom of the ages.
I sit alone.
Alone in the darkness,
As I watch the sun set upon humanity.
Hidden in MY darkness.
Protected from the light,
And I watch as the sun goes down,
So I …
… We can be free.
The clouds are almost gone,
Running away from the dark.
They are frightened of Night.
As afraid of Him as humanity is.
All of humanity,
… All except me.
Night’s chilled winds kiss my lips frigid and I weep.
Cry tears as brilliant and as numerous as the stars;
Because while with Night I cannot be a part of humanity.
My mortal kin would not understand.
There in lies the pain of it,
the pain in it,
the pain in me.
The darkness is more a part of me than of any other human.
And that is why I go to Night alone,
And sit …
And listen …
I watch the human part of myself from afar,
from a safe place,
from my Night.
I watch from humanities fears,
From humanities shattered hearts,
And forgotten dreams.
I feel my tears grow cold,
grow cold like me,
But Night understands.
What use are tears shed over something that can not be changed,
For Night is a part of me.
A secret part that I share with no one.
The silent part of me that is vulnerable,
that can love and care,
yet is vicious and sadistic.
It is the part of me that can not feel.
It can only use others to feel.
My friends feel for me.
What would my friends,
The Children of the Light,
Say to that?
I do not know,
Nor do I care to know.
It does not concern any of them.
I can hear the bells returning,
Yet returning with the winged creatures of Night.
The moon is now crystalline,
An open eye,
Yet hidden in mystery,
Like my other half.
Out of reach,
Scared of the light.
Scared to trust,
to depend upon,
And this is me,
The Night in me,
The Night …
… the darkness that they can not see.
This black that I won’t let them see;
For they would be frightened …
… frightened of the REAL me.
|The Storm of War||The Gypsy Chronicles: Proem & 1/2 Part 1|
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