The wild night awakens from the dream of an imploding inferno

The wild night awakens from the dream of an imploding inferno, Stretching lazily, with tangled strands like waves of darkness, Tossing aside the serene blankets of the full golden winter moon, To dance barefoot on frozen floors, like a lost silhouette. Stumbling over morning's remnants, where thoughts like shards, Crumpled and cold, cling to naked windows, dressed in bareness, Shivering, the night listens as hungry fangs jangle bells, While gusts of darkness ravage the cradles of forgotten dreams. Gnawing the jaws of desolate dreamscapes, thoughts rush in, Through obsessive loops of the mind, amid inescapable storms, Where night huddles, adorned with fixations and grotesque graffiti, Despair masquerades as cyclones of deception, mania as solutions. Whispers of wind, earworms, are born from the cold silence, Intercepting the celestial voice, cutting painfully into the sky's heart, While angels' blood stains the doves of their white flight, Anxiety floods in torrential rains, as hours writhe in noise. The wild night wanders through midnight, caught by hurried tornados, Eagerly awaiting the first light of resurrection, a promised miracle, A sunrise of lost tranquility, like a promise of peace and solace, And light to pierce the darkness, like a dream of rediscovered hope.