The evolution of perspective, the chronicling of journeys, and a series of overwhelming thoughts.

the sound of the night

The sun was gone 

She layed her head

Her fire goes out to rest

And as she leaves a twinkling sky

Comes the wailing of the night


They tumble from their carriage 

Their faces black and blue

From injuring each other is where they get

their muse


They multiply like dice

As they absorb their nightly feast

Children’s tears and waken eyes are

all they like to eat


And once a feast is over

The sky turns back to light

They ride off in their carriage 

Drunk on the sound of the night

Olivia GreenComment