Half the dreams in the midst
died under the shade of sky
and the sky sobs the stars.
half of the night's reverent flame spent
in the solitude,
longing for a new flavor to rise.
driving the honest fire in to the wood
and widened through the relentless night.
the rose felt worshiped
while crushed under the stone of a giant.
to be the damn of the devil
or innocence which drives,
the rose felt glory
and astonished as it often dressed up,
still affirmed to survive.
Fragrance in the chilly night
The wait left alone after, has a fever
Solitude which came along
to watch the fever to be lost among
the black meadows of the night,
has a rhyme
to rub through the Thought wires.
This is how they both came along and left
this is how I believe
the night didn't die ,
the night would not reduced to this night. (tonight)
