My heart in the morning is a sweet little thing,
It rises with sunshine, and will timidly sing,
At noon she's ablaze with the force of the sun
On evenings folds weary, of a hard battle won
And under the stars, beneath twilight blue,
She flies free and wild, and happy, and true

Indeed I loved her, I’d write to tell,
Hoping she would notice how to her I am kin,
She’d enjoy, then read, then see my hell,
Would see it, then pity, and her heart I would win.

I searched for things to scream and yell,
Watched other’s works, to see her smile in
Light of other’s lines, to tap the well,
Which cool water flows, to quench my thirst again.

But the spring doth run dry, I wanted more of
Other’s beautifully crafted works, though none
Of mine would cause her heart to flutter like a dove.

I had nothing to my work, I was, and wasn’t, done.
But the heart spoke to me and sang its sweet song,
“If you force feelings of love, they’ll all spill forth wrong”.

Night
(which curls like smoky velvet
And stains the world like spilled ink, the colour of lost thoughts)
...
Descends
(like a torrent of rain, cloaking the golden world in whispers and dark corners)
...
Softly,
(More tender than a mother, it difts like floating silken feathers and starry dreams)
...
Covering
(So completely as mummies wrapped in promises, clinging lustily to skin like wet cloth)
...
The world
(Our world, blazing with light)
...

In silence

Midnight stars in clear black skies
Wink solemnly with their many friends,
Dancing eternally, the silent centennials
Stand Intensely aloof,
..
And with diamond voices, crystal breath
Sing boldly to the waning night;
The thin, velvet night

The gentle giant,
Furiously calming
With peaceful power,
Pushing forward, endlessly on
Frothing and abating
Against the blemished shore,
Wiping away the disaster
And washing it out for more.

Before the world came darkness
And at its end was peace,
But chaos calmly churned between,
A violent masterpiece