Most people passed such a night by talking it away,
It was quiet but it carried a strange barbaric feeling,
The white moon was full, flat and appeared dead,
It was abnormal yet the tall proud trees carried a meaning
He was a victim of the universe that seemed to define him,
All paths were filled with infinite crowds that suffocated him,
The snares and stares made him a small fly caught in a spider’s web,
He’d grown up with his doubts where chances were never easy
But in this night, he had a chance to define his realities and illusions,
He believed that his experiences and life entitled him to grow and glow,
He was tired of the normal path decorated by inverted values,
For he had this notion of how things should really be
His unashamed desires burned with hard instincts that dominated him,
For the past was what was and is not part of his graceful movement,
He was searching for the unexpected in that mundane hour,
Of the dark reality in the hidden lines and the unborn light,
Now every pace was as easy and magical as the breaking dawn
Aston kamunde 