Musings upon a Night Spent in Sorrow

If you listen in the stillness of the night as it draws close

You’ll hear voices, great and listless, speaking poetry and prose

They’re inspired by the moonlight, by the stars, and by the view

They’re inspired by the hopefulness they’ve found inside of you

These voices see you stare into the night sky full of dreams

They can see your eyes reflect each burning star’s celestial beams

Then they, themselves, start yearning for a youthful hope like yours

And they aspire to write an epic or compose the next great score

But such things are for the daylight voices, positive and proud

Since the night is made for sorrow, such joys are not allowed

No, we, nights, are meant for sorrow, meant for hopelessness and pain

It is our changeless lot in life to bind up every man in chains

We cry out from the shadows and beckon you to the blackness

Only shamed, grief-stricken teardrops could satisfy this malice

Our vengeful retribution forms the nightmares of your sleep

Much like blood, our hateful whisperings run silently yet deep

And though the daylight comes to lift you from the hell you are enduring

He’ll have to wait his turn, for joy comes not until the morning

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