Nocturnus

Nocturnal Screeches

and the yips of coyotes

on the blood trail;

purgatory, toward

a threshold of eden.

The night is alive;

buzzing and humming

with evening's cacophany.

There is infinity left to go

in this palor of nightshade.

There is no completion, only striving

towards creation, deletion.

This night reminds me

that a moths life

is no less brilliant

for its brevity.

The flames we chase are all

we stand for. And on this eve

every flame

eats us alive.

Swing from your ropes of thought,

perform you mental acrobatics,

and exit exhausted, brimming

with your new book's revelations.