by Profe Steve (this is my part of a larger work that will be revealed soon)
Mysterious and ever cold, I penned my odes unto the night,
Sang out praises long untold Filled with all my soul’s delight.
Thus I poured upon the page The pulsing beats within my soul,
Deluded aspiring to the sage Knowing not I missed the goal.
While around and around flits a light Calling gently ever soft,
Oh please release me to my flight, I beg to rise and soar aloft.
Night weary retreats back to her lair While bright new morning takes her turn.
So dawn shakes out her golden hair And struts upon the stage to burn
Her fleeting life of passion spend And in such glory spread her tales,
All eyes to her form will bend Captives of her wordly gales.