The Dead Of The Night
By Clint Greenhowe
Awake I lie my thoughts a meandering hallucination of colours and words
The wind the one who woke me talks through the trees
Begging the rain to continue its assault on my imagination
Is that footsteps I hear in the dead of the night
Voices of ancient souls who only want my ears
They creep and crawl through my mind
I have never felt so alive the inhabitants of the world around me sleep
Recharging for another onslaught on the dwindling earth
But the wind reminds me the earth will reclaim its soul nature will prevail
In the dead of the night
The onslaught continues and the wind rushing through the trees talks of the
Disappointment in the guardian’s of earth.
Hailstones are sent crashing down reinforcing the need to be heard
And I feel at peace in the dead of the night.