Every time...
When there is nothing between myself and the night,
It surrounds me with its silence, coldness.
Even in the day, I feel its effects wrapping me in loneliness
Nothing but an observer to the colored lives played out around me

I look to the night in her shadowed light;
Silent and alone...
Forgotten in the wayside of people’s dreams.
I look to her who lays a dark hand over those who sleep,
Separate from the noise and movement of others.

I turn to the silence in the night
That weaves the web of dreams in the endless sky.
Creating and severing threads of light
I turn to her who touches the air, suppressing sound
A phantom movement.

I become the faceless dreamer who lives in silence,
Lifting my darkened head to the night.
And tears trace an endless tale in the face of the solitary traveler.
I become her who cries –
Out of reach from the hands of those who would hurt me.