Hobgoblins know the proper way to dance: Arms akimbo, loopy legs askew, Leaping into darkness with delight, Lusting for the ecstasy of fright, Open to the charm of horrors new.

Only night can make us whole again.

...A fuel-less flame is nothing but a wraith, However wrought, if unsustained by passion.

Love of life at times requires death

By day each soul must walk within its shadow. Only night can make us whole again.

Given angel's wings, where might you fly? In what sweet heaven might you find your love? Unwilling to be bound, where might you move, Lost between the wonder and the why?

Angels are quite ample cause to cry.