The Secluded Phase

It's the soul of demarcation,
Time's essence at it's peak,
Where dreams are it's oblation
And spirits start to speak.
It's where the moon is always new
And shadows twist the mind
Casting reality askew
And eyesight in a bind
Since retinas catch fewer clues
When so much darkness reigns
And fancy starts to present views
To overstimulated brains,
Blooming, like a midnight flower,
In the power of...The Zero Hour!