Laying low on the earths dewless floor.
I grow rich like silt on a riverbed.
No sound is heard, near or far.
Stars become pearls and shatter.
Clouds fly faster and free flowing.
Like smoke from a giants cigar.
Surrounded by black, engulfed entirely.
Warmth from my own arms folded.
Feeling held like a newborn baby.
Dark night smeared like gesso to canvas.
Beauty that goes unrecognized.
How the world seems tilt and askewed.
Informal but yet, special with little color.
Something like a Pollock, not as caotic.
The views of a Dark Night.
Gulliver Gimble
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dark-night-4/
