The night is not for man.

Silhouettes of dancing trees
Parade their lunacy
Beneath the vigorous glory
Of a wholesome moon

Silence, that damn silence
Offends my senses

Even the grey Stagnant grass
Beneath cascading moonlight
Seem absurd

Only the darkness grows
With ceaseless Preaching
From devoted leaves
To the pagan spirits
Of wind and rain
And those westerly breezes

As the blackness caress my brow
This black tar road
Holds no fear

Watching the soft drops
Of delicious drizzle
Washing the mud
From my boots

The night is
What it is suppose to be
Unhuman
Hiding truth
From the eyes of man