Midnight
When the soul takes flight,
no sunlight,
here's to the night-
the moonlight in the dark.

The shadow patterns of trees
against a midnight sky;
no love lost or gained,
just a simple night
of letting souls free,
of not being seen,
of hide and go seek.
The fine infinite line
between here or there,
sanity or insanity,
love or hate.

In the garden of statues and shadows,
where the wind whips against fallen leaves
and fallen angels
and the cold unforgiving stone.
No respite for the weary here
in this secret, silent garden;
the serenity is frightening
only in the nighttime.
The cool caress of the wind
beckons again and again,
whispering secrets
to the stones and the night.

The moonlight consumes all that it touches,
its power staying in the night wind.
The lines that blur between
the dark and the light
are the eternal battles
of moonlight and night,
while hordes of statues
lovingly caress the shadows,
and the wind performs its own deeds.

Just a simple night
of darkness and moonlight,
of gardens of statues and shadows,
of the sweet breath of cold wind,
and of the souls to be freed.