maybe, perhaps, there is a time
where the fallen shadows
and hooded eyes
sweep out from the deafening hood
into a broader night sky,
a stunning, sublime silver
of magenta crescent moon,
blood orange and flushed
because that is the way
reminiscent sways amidst
a stroke of passion
and there is that beautiful moon
spotted glistens of a starry sky,
talking, laughing, singing a soft melody
to cool the aching strides
which create pitfalls and unbearable demise,
nay, don't look that way
don't squander where the land is darker,
where the soil is tethered by an eternal blackness,
no, keep a chin up high to the glimmering starry sky
and the glimmer of magenta orang moon,
holding close to dear heart the memory
of a twilight setting nigh