The Night (from behind our conscious door)

The Night (from behind our conscious door)
by dan ankers

The night, her darkness creeps
however playfully
full of smiles and ruby lips
containing mayhem, in her kiss

With no regard for the daytime or the moonshine
she works out of her own mind
dancing adroitly between the two
and never having been seen by either one

Her ebony skin is silken
Her polished smile, deliciously unnerving
Her fun is not for everyone
and she will eat the undeserving

Where they will awake in the light of day
never the same, their innocence lost
no longer believing in the darkness or the grey
but clinging to the bright lights, at any cost

Or else they will become harbingers of shadows
assimilated by the creatures there
no longer a part of her, either
for she is not a creature of despair

She is merely a warden of the unseen
ambivalent to petty things, like love or greed
She is above such whimsical heights of emotion
orchestrating from behind a veil of such devotion

Neither the sun or moon have any clue of what her name is
to them she is the beating heart of strangeness
and since they have never seen her at any point
in misunderstanding, she's dismissed  of no import

Though I assure you she's greater than either one of those
either the gentle moon or the sun's overbearing glows
For within her contains the backdrop of our very souls
our private essences that only timelessness knows
and even then we can scarcely divine, from whence she came
and like the sun and moon, we are ignorant of her true name

If only she would grace us to reveal
the significance of her import, I do feel
within my triffling, pathetic human mind
that somewhere from her words she could reveal
a comprehensive truth, all too real
combining both the darkness and the light
into the permeating backdrop of the night
to unify the pieces, once more
as it was, but truly always will be
behind the door