The Kings of the Night

The seemingly tranquil sky blooming with stars soon pierced by a distant cry that seems to swoon. Beneath dense trees standing tall to touch dark canvas painted after dusk, prowls the epiphany of all mother nature’s tainted. The wise are often alone and the dangerous hated, but they express in moan their solitude, once more grated. Gradually their voices unite in a song across the valley, seeming to smite all of innocence’s nest. The moon in her splendour moves to comfort the carnivores that commence, and yet her beam soothes not the beasts’ sense. Torn between wrong and right the moon spreads her swanlike wings amidst the howls of her lovers, the kings of the night… among the wolves in the mist.