To the night filled with wonder and adventure,
with it's midnight sky's soft, dark texture,
it all but hold's a provoked pleasure,
from the man lonely and lost,
from the soul; committed to deep, meaningful ponder
from the restless heart; whom was broken in the most untimely manner
and from others, who sleep in quiet undisturbed slumber
with whom their dreams shift and change in chaotic splendor
the night holds it's pleasure!
For it's emotions it brings about will always endeavor,
For as long as it darkness holds on by it's many, unseen, measures.

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