Nights where we sit and weep,
Staring face to face, confronting the diluted darkness
Surrounding our nocturnal scribblings.

We see fumes tormented within that darkness;
Thick waves refracting from every corner,
Gloom reflecting against gloom:

Nights where our despair echo’s louder 
Than our strident prayers,
When our shadows can no longer bruise
the tiger-toothed earth stained with black.

But we wear the saggy gowns sewn
By this subtle night herself.
So we wept but may weep no more 
Because the horror still clutches

Fresh and imprinted upon our wrinkled minds
Like the voices of our haunting pasts.
And if the echoes still be sonorous,
What solace would our tears craft
Whether we weep or we do not?

Well, we still do weep;
For the rain can’t build a wall,
For the stars can’t lighten a grave
And for birth can’t instill life.
So let the lines run on

And sync when they wish to 
And rhyme all for the fun;
For life’s a transient canoe:

Gloom lusteth after light
And light after gloom,
So let our heals shadows lurk behind.

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