There’s Never Complete Darkness in a City

I found a dark and quiet place in the middle of the city –
quite a feat, it being so loud and light most of the time.
The night is blackest there. The sound is stifled there.

I suppose it would be like finding the loudest, brightest
place in a winter’s forest – a place that feels out of place, but
exciting in its oddness.

He is the dark from which evil draws inspiration

Became the dark, did he at last
And ransomed hope for power
While clung the mate to his mast

The crew low and wayward asked
What to make of this ghostly hour
Became the dark, did he at last

The mate cried to crew, hold fast!
And the shaky men threw fit and cower’d
While clung the mate to his mast

The ocean roared like storms of past
And rose the water to mighty tower
Became the dark, did he at last

The blue did churn as far and vast
As his sunken eyes could scour
While clung the mate to his mast

Marvel did he, at his wayward cast
While the ocean spray did mist a shower
Consumed by dark, was he at last
While clung the mate to his mast