I love the smell of the night
When the sky is robbed of light.
Miracles happen when the sky is dark,
When the moon, suspended, makes her mark.
The sound of rain fills my ears,
Drowning any lonesome tears
And catching in the pool below,
Hopeful that flowers soon will grow.
Despite a heavy nighttime shroud,
Noises echo deep and loud,
Sorrow soaking in the soil deep
Where long lost dreams go to weep.
Beneath dirt and rooted spindle
Glows a fire with broken kindle
That swells with sadness, grows with fear
From all of those who cry here.
Letting go of sorrow's grasp,
Pallid dreamers take off masks
And sew their tears into the dirt,
Blooming petals from those who hurt.