Black Night

Night rides a horse
wild and unpredictable
a black beauty of mystery.

Morning is gray
like the dove.
and plain
like the dove.

Must I comment on day

As we all know it to be
A changing thing.

Can be dark and gray
Can be sunny and bright
And I digress.

Evening falls, it falls,
As a cloak of consummation
Whether the deed of the day
Is done or not.

And night, its power disparate,
Does as it pleases
And holds its secrets
As an unopened book.

For the searchers of the daytime
To find the events that run reckless
Untamed to the laws of the light.
In the night, black night.