The midnight hour
Thy moon high
Thy stars 'nigh
Willingly venturing into an unknown
Lights adorn the cobblestone streets
A little, little boy, plays feutball in yon churchyard past,
On all around their beauteous radiance cast,
This midnight hour.
All is quiet
Yet their is a riot
One that cannot be heard
Not a Word
Journeying o'er the path of life,
Onward, forward we move
With stars and northern lights o'er head in strife,
Perfect Bliss
Is This
The stars are out
For me
This midnight hour.
Rising High Does the full moon
Saying Hello to the Night
All of her shine and lustre
Bursting through the darkness wherein she was enshrined;
Arise, Arise
Willing, active, rapid thought
The past is the past as it intertwines the future
At midnight hour.
2006 Peter LeBuhn
Peter LeBuhn
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/midnight-hour/
