#7 (From,100 Love Songs) Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Night after night there's time going somewhere
With eyes close I see darkness there within
Craving something of its variable own kin
Beautiful sights going sometime to its own sphere
With the whole thing distant still in its blear
Life that was and now's lost into twilights spin
Flowers all closed of deep empty and sin
Sowing its kernels born from the dark near
More than water going lighter and lighter
Seeking their way of uncertain flora
Like the gust of few moments going by
Lying in the likeness turning inside tighter
The ongoing streaming in the veins aura
Enigmatic ways through the endless sky