His eyes are dark moons ringed by sleepless nights,
For thoughts, like fog, are burned away with sun.
By day, he feels his way with dreamless sight
And so seeks words that after midnight come—
This burden borne by those who question fate
I see within the pool of poet eyes.
But what those eyes see is a daunting weight—
Dark visions, liquid.
In reflection lies
His truth, a quest which tries to drag him down
While he builds lyric castles in the air.
Behind his eyes: a moat so deep, I drown,
He tires himself so none must travel there.
He dwells in darkness just so he may write;
He lives by night and better loves the light.
