In The Storm Of The Night Poem by THEODORE MOSLEY

IN THE STORM OF NIGHT
My heart was filled with love that time could not imagine ever existed.
No one could have told me life was not without the hollowness of pain.
I embraced the thoughts of being carried away on the silhouette of my mind.
I heard the whispers in the dark and my flesh cried out for relief on each step I took.
In the storm of the night my eyes brought me to a place of solace and fortitude.
Walking the distance in love I found the boundaries to be unlimited with my thinking.
Forbidding times and forbidding touches I despair in learning the meaning of heartbreak.
Seclusion has kept me incarcerated from reality and my tears have me imprisoned in the night.
In the storm of the night I begin to explode with words that my heart is not worthy to say.
The midnight air is singing songs of ecstasy and my body is filling the moon with fires of torture.
The Milky Way sends meteors of rain to engulf my wayward timing of sensual collections of movements.
The stars await my directions and give me a moment in time to ready my stand of disappointments.
The harps play melodies of dove's wings as I glide towards the scene that unfolds on Venus.
In the storm of the night the dreams of love are captivated on the reflections of the seas.
Diving in the abyss of the hearts, love is contaminated with deceit and disenchantments.
Growing inside the words of love are seeds of rhetoric that confuses the soul with temptation.
Standing on the height of loneliness the music plays notes of rose petals that have never been planted.
Drifting above the seashore the pearls of the coral seas are placed in the eyes of beholding angels.
In the storm of the night the gates of kisses are overflowing with lava as the heat subsides in love.
The shadow of life is moving towards the meadows of flowers as hearts prepare for submission.
Love has raptured our bodies with sounds that have invoked the whirlwinds to natural disasters.
Dreams of eruptions have ignited our bodies and we are drifting on explosions of nature.
In the storm of night the eyes of love conceded to the curves of ecstasy and obtained freedom.