Midnight’s Comedy


In some sleep I was lost,
The night closing in,
Frightfully stumbling
Through forests of sin.

And color, now gone,
Dripped down off the trees,
As warmth from the dawn
Drifted ‘way with the breeze.

But while painfully silent
(The sound of it all),
My stomach turned violent
With the angering squall.

I looked on as the darkness
Came exaggerated.
No mere mournful madness
Commanded pupils dilated.

Then a spine-wrenching thunder
Followed a hideous roar
And all became under
A blanket of war.

And the bodies of tyrants,
All chained to form rows,
Were stricken with terror,
Again trapped in that pose.

And still were their victims,
Jaws locked in their screams,
Dancing lifeless around them,
As puppets on strings.

(What I should now tell you,
As you may not know,
Has always been waiting
To put on a show).

Beyond sat their king,
More joyless than all.
And bards dare not sing
Of the horror I saw.

The face of this sorrow
(Still frozen in glance)
Stares straight thru tomorrow,
Claiming all he’s entranced.

But before I awoke,
I heard what he spoke.
With Midnight his gown
And an upturning frown,

As if mocking my tone,
He rose to the floor,
Turned his back as he moaned
And uttered, “No more.”

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