Mysteries of the Night

Mysteries of the Night                            October 14, 2005

Wide-eyed soldiers march during the day,

Whether the sky be blue or the sky be gray.

It's pretty clear what lurks then,

And we know the brighter it is, the greater the grin.

But day only lasts us from rooster's call to the moon,

And then we begin singing a much different tune.

I've studied the constellations, you know, the stars,

But what do they mean to us? Anymore than Mars?

Mysteries of the night abound us so,

Or at least they have for me since a long time ago.

I can't remember a time or place

Where, at that time, I needn't a light bulb to see one's face.

Superstitions galore, the driving force of the inquisitive,

Of all those who tend to be photosensitive.

Trick-or-treaters revel beneath its cloak,

Something which only appeals to the kid folk.

There are many different faces on this here planet

Who'd rather be blinded by darkness than be under the sun and fit.

There are mysteries of the night,

And they baffle me, alright.

What's the fun in being blind

When you're bumping into others of your own kind?

Maybe some like it so they can sin,

But I don't know. Then again....