Leaving From Night

Taking the last train out
from the land of blanket black
holes in the sky
like puncture wounds in its back

you can't see half of anything
that prances forth from it
specks of light for shadows
its likeness did become it

glad to be going home
in the glazes of the sun
leaving a friend of mine
but our time is done

brilliance I'll not forget
the blinding of its soul
I shall visit now and then
but it shall not take control

for all living things
to live need light
brown my skin, sun-friend
alas, I leave the night.