Pitch dark night
mutely complains against starlight,
fireflies, moon beams and each spec of light
seeping in from galaxies lost in billion year dreams

The greatest injustice,
in the voice of wind, night murmurs
is light that makes discordant notes
marring the spellbinding orchestra conducted by darkness
extending softly like a drapery of silk, all over the world
rising and falling to an invisible baton's moves, swift or slow.

But her reign, she forgets, is only till sun comes
riding his chariot and seamlessly continue
drowning the music of darkness,
completely in his tenor of light touching alto soon enough