Worshippers of the Midnight Skies

By Bernard John Abraham

In the darkness that embrace us
we thrive. Far from the waking illusion
that they call their own.

In the midnight blue descending,
we arise from the cradles of day
to greet the twisted morning
of the silent, silent world.

This is reality
where the unfelt emotions rise
to a crescendo. Where the suppressed
are set free, on their own.
To be felt, to be noticed, to be known.

In the loneliness that no one feels,
save the worshippers of the midnight skies,
we wake. Far apart, yet bound as one.
We raise our ethereal hands to heaven
and sing to the forgotten White Deity,
save the worshippers of the midnight skies.

In the darkness that embrace us
we thrive, and in the same darkness
shall we ascend to the midnight blue,
far from the waking illusion
that they call their own.