PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

When the sky be dark,

  Except for the stars,

And perhaps the moon,

  Or even old Mars.



And the wind it blows,

  With a peculiar stir,

Making dance the branches,

  In a distant whirr.



I feel a peace,

  As I look to the black,

That feels the earth sleep,

  As it be out of our grassp.



As the sleeping mass,

  Joins in the repose,

Whilst dreaming and resting,

  So the next day they know.



I often think to myself,

  Other parts of our world,

May well be feasting,

  Or beginning to stir.



There never actually be rest,

  Of All absolutely,

But majority rules,

  In all that we see,



But if instead we could sense,

  Like the learnedd to feel,

We could tune in any-time,

  To any part of the Wheel.