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

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

Joy requires one to be awake, Adjusting the heart's ambience to bright. Some prefer the dark, as is their right, On grounds of agony, and to forsake Not only bliss, but all that's blessed by light.

Only night can make us whole again.

Love of life at times requires death

Mothers are the place that we call home. On them we rest our heads and close our eyes. There's no one else who grants the same soft peace, happiness, contentment, sweet release, erasing righttime tears with lullabies, restoring the bright sun that makes us bloom.

Angels are quite ample cause to cry.