Sleepless Nights Poem by Franz Of Lion

Unforeseen insipid skies sojourn
On the languid flare;
Bestowing its somnolent rain,
Dousing the embers that remain.
Acquiescing the prowling midnight
To become a wayfarer in a familiar,
yet desultory region;
A volatile excursion that will leave no lesion.
Uncharted, hostile land that can transmute into a forbidden welkin.
The naivete of the soul is trapped
In a mercurial field that emanates
Of serenity and tumultuousness
That can only be salvaged,
Or drowned by an abrupt ending.

A well-known blare vivifies
The dormant cognizance.
Hauling the soul outside the realm
Of fantasy and into the mundane dwelling of importance;
Leaving the world of fallacy.
Becoming an undulating ocean,
And obfuscating the escapist
For a fleeting time.
The drained high seas
Became a barren land
Of deathly silence.
Fain to howl
At the enticing sirens.

Once the seemingly absurd travail ends,
Restive light awaits the recrudescence
Of the solace of darkness.
A shout in the caliginous crevasse,
Awaiting the response,
The lulling of the night..
Desirous of the dark...
Forgotten for tonight....

Restless gaze at the luminous moon;
Coveting its tacit acknowledgment.
Like a moth reaching for the light,
Lost in thought;
Girdled in a taut,
Coarse rope.
Bewailing the miseries
Of the silent night.
Sequestered in its reveries.
The glummest hours
Filled with dreary flowers.
Sauntering the reticence
Of the moon alone;
Seeking the quiescence
Once more.