The poets of the night
Here them write and draw from the light
The stars of their page and the wings for their plight
Their hearts pouring rain.
So hot they'll ignite.
There words turn to bats who waltz drunk in the night.
A symbol of their muse and unparallel views
They interlace the buildings and rise with dawn.
Their eyes heavy with sleep and minds racing with thought
The poets of the night sing their songs of love.
It chimes with the birds and swirls with bronze.
A deep cry of difference from work with the sun.
The poets of night flow and come undone
No other time can fill them with such bravo and delight
A time where poets take of in flight
So timed and fitted it changes the Earths rhythm
And turns the quiet into an unearthly cry of freedom
They fly and mingle with feeling, remembering a time in infancy
Where time had no bounds and the world was infinity
The poets of the night stay suspended in time and give and receive not even a dime.
They write for wonder and all the divine Waiting for the sun to set; for it to rise
YOU ARE READING
Alien's Theory
RandomBored. And an extremely good procrastinator. I present you with the book of what ever the heck I want. You don't care and I frankly don't either. This is for fun and let's me vomit my thoughts onto Wattpad. Laugh with me. Think with me. I don't mind...
