Renditions of the Night

Midnight, and the whispers begin

Where a familiar darkness settles in

Pavements breathe steam conflicting with the icy air

Metaphors of original sin

Where lovers sing tactile songs of lust and desire

Human embers hotter than any fire

Burning brightly under the stars

In the royal blue and orange wash of the night

Staining the structures of the city

Under a crescent moon

It seems the night has a vanilla grin

That holds the secrets of dusk

Known only to the pious ones that worship the moon

Anointed in midnight oil

Awash with neon and smoke from outdoor bars

or lost in the subconscious of other streets

The subtlety of the trees as they sway to nocturnal beats

The pulse

The rhythmic flicker that is beyond control

And always calling, beckoning to those that know

The excitement carried in mysterious depths

Ingested into thoughts that weave pixels onto digital screens

That stain the sheets of paper reams

Renditions of the night that escape your dreams...