‘Night Walker’ by Paul Webb

I see the world in different light
For me your day is my night.
I see showers of light…
I see…
Shadows where no shadow can exist
And forms that disappear into a mist.
My shadow dapples in the glow
And then that shadow doth grow.
And grow…
Till a giant strides the globe
And sparks fly from his robe.
I grow wheels of steel that thunder
And sprout blades that can rip asunder.
I call the stars down to the ground
Crashing down with screaming sound.
I send the mountains to the streams
And listen to the drowning screams.
My borders stretch to infinity
And my stretch is simple divinity.
I can call lightning to strike a tower
And bricks do recoil from my power.
There is peculiar sound that guides
This peculiar power inside.
Souls that come into my ken
Do not do it easily again.
For I am a great windmill of pain.
Driven by the winds of chance
To impale the night on my lance.
Creatures of the night come forth
And then do suffer my great wrath.
For white feathers fall from the sky
Each time one of them must die.
And with these white feathers I do scribe
And catalogue the white hurt inside.
I take those stars and crush ‘em in my hand
And life slips through white fingers like sand.
I take the constellations around her throat
And with the Milky Way do choke
Every last angel drop of tear
And wipe away the fear.
Put them to white feather save
Cold comfort in white feather grave.
And with their last breath
I did save them from death. ‘


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