The night is my home, shadows my slaves.
I feel life proceed, sensing the pulse
Of a world not mine own.
These vessels of movement parade about in the night
But cannot sense the truth of what I am,
Too strange or too terrifying to be acknowledged
As anything more than imagination.
I love the night, the moon is my mistress.
When all else is asleep, I dance with the stars
And laugh at the exquisite nature of mortality;
To feel life flowing through you
Is the ultimate ecstacy.