Some say I'm brother to the night;
They're right.
Cousin of death in depth of breath --
The blue note of a worldly rondo
And better yet, the rhapsody in subtle theft;
Refrain that robs your life.

Often times I'm called by dreamers
As the Great Redeemer.
Equalizing the smallest lid with the thickest sinews;
Through omnipotent metamorphosis
Stealing sight and mind that life continues;
In unearthly fire resurrecting silent screamers.

Known sometimes as a silent keeper
Of pallid sleepers,
Sometimes drawn out beyond perception --
Else a wink in the face,
Else a wink in the face of common direction --
Deaf to rapture in felicity deeper.

Some call me brother to the night;
They're right.
Cousin of death in sightless eye
Atonality in melodic home
And better yet, the elegy of time;
Somber dirge of quiet respite.


Penned by my hand on the 10th of Miraman, in the year 365 AF.