In the souless black mist of the night,

A burning soul flickers incandescant bright,

The shadows dance in the moonlit ether,

A goose that did not migrate; frozen forever.

That poor innocent girl, trapped in waking,

Awareness traps her, dreams have her forsaken,

The mind is a prison, and thoughts, the guards,

Dreams are forever encased in crystal shards.

The servants of the night fill the room,

Fear, pain, anguish; eternal impending doom,

She is a beacon amongst shadowed souls,

A light in a world of shadows and black holes.

A pure innocent dove flutters it's wings,

Trying to find the wonders dreamlessness brings,

The shadows grab it's legs and drag it down,

To night-hell, a thick darkness where one can drown.

By James Womack