Beyond Nightfall

I have known the dark,

thoroughly,

like an old lover from my youth,

when torrid encounters

left us breathless and abandoned

in places seldom glimpsed

by the lights of the curious.

 

We wore deep mystery,

long, unfettered shadows,

like haute couture,

riven from a winding sheet.

Leaving bereft the old ghosts;

no more rattling chains and wailing.

Darkness is the place for adjourning

from our sadness,

so we beat those old chains

into fine jewelry

and clasps and adornments

suitable to our station.

 

The meek shall inherit the Earth,

but here,

at the center of the great unknown,

we have no need for it.

Not that we have forgotten it,

but the world no longer concerns us.

We are free,

obliged even,

to squash our torments

and distill our tears

down into fine wine

and powerful spirits.

A mournful wail

does just as well for a song.

 

We have cast off the vestments

of the light blinded world

and abandoned the world’s concern,

for it cared not for us.

We the citizens of dark beyond nightfall;

shadowed places never exposed to the Sun.

Here is the spaces between photons, we exist.

ghosts, to be sure,

but we dress well

and we drink better

and we sing our songs

to the places where the world is dark.

 

HG – 2016

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