IX

Much like the midnight is my love for thee,
Where merely while most sleep does it emerge.
For its existence rests where none can see,
And vanishes when dream and day converge.

At that ungodly hour, myst'ry will reign;
No sin is seen 'neath that sinister veil.
All judgments silenced in the dark's domain,
Desire no longer chained within Her jail.

So distant from the sun where it inclines,
Such Passion begs to see the light of day.
But She must be content in her confines,
And flee the slightest sign of any ray.

Much like the midnight is my foul desire,
So dark, they say, to damn my soul to fire.