i have known nights
where men walk the sun
and the stars count people

sheep huddle together
in grassy fields
dreaming
of fences
worn down

see, the funny thing
about nights is
at some point
you can’t tell the difference
between the first
and the last

(And hey,
****** ******
The cat’s lost his fiddle
Orion’s got a belt
Round his neck)

the lass
on the moon
plucks planets
from the blue
and decorates
the tangles in
her hair

see, the funny thing
about dreaming is
at some point
you can’t tell the difference
between what hurts
and what doesn’t

(The cat’s started drinking
Orion’s stopped thinking)

dawn
decides to sleep in
for just
another hour
or two

see, the funny thing
about nights is
i have always known them
but know nothing
of you

(And the fiddle has gone out of tune).

Others may not remember you
For what you say or what you do;
How you make them feel however
They will never forget, ever

As the cold breath of winter screamed,
We fell apart to be redeemed,
Then rebuilt silence through subtraction,
With the blinding speed of our inaction,
Still seeking peace in our own skin,
While dying to be young again,
As we tiptoed in our father’s shoes
And gave more than we had to lose,
We fought the fire behind our eyes,
With each incongruent compromise,
In the warmth of illuminated refrain,
And the remnants where we still remain,
Praying empathy breeds chain reactions,
Or that love can multiply these fractions,
But it’s more than we can hope tonight,
At least until summer sings its blinding light.

Death, decay
Turning grey,
Fade away,
Unsaid.

Stay astray,
Betray today,
Fight anyway,
Instead.