Night (A Poem)

Night
By Zach TheDane

Mournful her heart beats; cold her façade
As broad wings of shadow she spreads out abroad.
Dolefully squelching the hearts of the gay,
Her darkness draws nigh as she stifles the day.

Quiet her fanfare; with long trumpet calls
Of silence saluting the sun as it falls.
Veiled in the blackness, white starlight her gown,
In majesty dons she the moon as her crown.

She is the night, the dark her domain;
How matchless her splendor, how glorious her reign!
But downcast is she, for her subjects despise
Her kingdom of moonlight and shut all their eyes

To the gifts of the Twins and Pleiades.
They shun the caress of her cool gentle breeze,
Choosing their slumber o’er her delicate grace.
And sad streams of starlight form tears on her face.

Hopeless her heart breaks, for always alone
She sits waiting atop her celestial throne;
Fervently praying for someone below
To gaze into her eyes and their deep midnight glow.

But vain is her hope and fruitless her cry,
For never they stir from their sweet lullaby.
The solitude ceaseless, her pain now does bloom
Like a black, sickly rose; living death in the gloom.

She is the night, but the dark they despise;
Oh can they not see her? Will they not open their eyes?
And angry is she at her beauty unpraised,
For they love the day so, and the sun as it’s raised

Rouses readily those who had slept in the night.
So they love their sweet daytime? Curse the dark, praise the light;
Seeking afternoon warmth, fleeing night’s cold embrace?
And with fervent white starlight burns rage on her face.

Vengeful her heart roars, while none give her ear.
If they will not adore her, she shall teach them t fear
As she strips from the weary all the rest of their beds,
Sowing seeds of night’s terror filled with pestilent dread.

Consuming her jealousy, so bitterly cold
Her revenge as her fingers maliciously mold
Men’s minds, crushing dreams into dust,
Turning slumber to mold and respite to rust.

No more does the dark entertain them with dreams;
Their night visions cease to be all that they seem
When malevolent tendrils of putridity tear
At the fabric of dreams, giving birth to nightmare.

So sleep not in safety nor slumber in quiet;
The night’s cruel revenge will never be silenced,
For the Night Queen has come, and all creatures despair
At her kingdom of terror and throne of nightmares.