A period with the colour of a raven.
The time when silence mostly prevails,
When in Morpheus hands we are driven.
So is that man "fear" mostly assail.

That time which harnesses intimidation,
From fear, as thoughts dance in our brains.
When but at least, we felt armored in our accomodation,
And peace of the outward body mostly reign.

With cur of owls and songs of birds,
One who listens well enjoys the most natural music ;
Somewhat singing lullabies as we doze off on our beds.
Yet thanks to the eerie murk, the sounds makes one sick.

The period for the dead and the living,
More like the ignominious dance of the medieval societies.
Yes the dance of the dead and the living;
Plentifully choreographed by the Seers and Witches.

But it hungs the golden lamp,
Serenely glowing, illuminating incandescently.
Shining lustrously from high up, where it hang
One good thing the dark night boast of, evidently.

Encroaches the day with its fierceful look,
Yet he who holds it up, that which is not his
Must lay it down when the hand feebles and shook,
Down enough to the owner's reach.
The day must always break forth


Copyright ©️
Oguiro Nelson Chibuike Chrysantus
Nigeria.
11th May, 2024.