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.