Sometimes you
have to stop running
from the moonlight,
stop fearing the twilight,
the beasts that want to bite.
Let those nightmares wash over you,
waves of midnight, waves of grim vagaries
that may cause fright in those early hours
where daylight is hidden from sight.
Silken liquid terror starts to ooze,
seeping through every groove
like moonbeams on a reflective river surface
or the sound of hooves in a particularly scary dream,
deep into every pore, across your skin, it creeps.
Stop running.
Nothing in there is as bad as it seems.
Sometimes we have
to wrap ourselves in midnight,
let the darkness cling tight,
a blanket against the outside,
the things that should cause flight.
Wrap ourselves in this shawl.
A barrier against nightfall.
To create a bubble from the true terrors inside.
The ones that are not concerned with monsters,
nor crooked reanimated old bones,
but with the fear that sits with us in our homes,
in our minds.
The fear of outside lives.
The fear of feeling the glow of red cheeks,
the fear of feeling like some kind of freak,
for having a view of the world
that is your own observation.
Beautiful and unique.
We are the children of midnight's light.
The ones who sit in darkness to feel alive.
We walk this phantom land between twilight
and dawns eery early glow.
We live like creatures scurrying
through the land below.
Eyes attuned to the full moon,
and the sheet of night that blows,
consuming the light before it flows.
We are the order of the stars,
the orchestrations of dust from afar.
We are the children, the everlasting stories
that will sing our forever songs.
Thanks for reading
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