Night Time

The large orb of hot mischief hid behind the horizon,

Rage had subtly been replaced with tranquility,

Tranquility overpowering in its own way,

Propagating ferocious waves wherever its sight lay.

The great reflector and its younglings,

Endeavoring at cutting down wings,

The black passerine now out on around,

Wingspan stretching from up in the sky down to the ground.

The weary wanderers of the land,

Gathering energy and calming senses for what may hold for them tomorrow,

Nonetheless, less time to spare or borrow,

A sapped soul which sleep offers a helping hand.

Soaring skies dominated by the silver glow,

Between the hothead and ball of solitude,

Lied the biggest conspiracy of a friend or a foe,

The magnificence of which to, the eyes of a common creature were glued.