Night crawls a drunkard’s stagger - Hoping to approach dawn Without incident or notice.
But the tyranny of fate Is a beast with little heart.
The power goes out Engulfing the ancient City Within a blanket of primordial darkness.
A curious uniformity creeps over. A nonchalant stillness.
The moon’s pale light, wanes. It’s fellowship with night at stake. A marauder’s masterpiece in making.
Half asleep, half unable to The citizens moan and groan.
And the power comes back on; A snag in the machinery fixed, And a dream half told, now fully forgotten.
