I plead for places to hide, she brings me close and cloaks me from hatred.
I beg for forgiveness, but she does nothing but accept.
She caresses my face with her chilled breath and her touch tousles my hair.
She cradles me when I sleep and she follows me when I sleepwalk.
She is the night and I am her humble devotee.
She is the night and I am but a man lost in her graces, looking out at those too foolish to see her boons.
She offers shelter, she offers a blanket to shade the weary for the oppression of the shining day which brings her end each morning and announces her arrival each evening.
I love her and she loves me, I can feel it.
I once hated her because of her sharp clarity of truth, which stung my senses and shocked me with fear.
A fear I now know as the very thing which keeps me wary every single day, and makes my heart pound with excitement every night.
Quality in life, is yours to find, and I find it during my midnight walks and my prowling adventures.
Others traverse her depths as I do, they are to be respected and treated as brothers and sisters, but also as contenders for night's favoring shadow.
To fear the dark, is to be apart from it, and to be denied the night's blessings.
To be one with the night as I am, is to take them for myself.
To respect my brothers and sisters is to respect the night.
To allow myself to be enveloped, is far better than allowing myself to be led like a sheep to slaughter.
To walk as I am on my own path under the night's grace, is to walk the path gifted to me by the night, and it is also to walk the path that would be otherwise stripped from me by the day.
Night mother, I pledge my love to thee, may you forever be, my destiny.
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