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Description
Confetti raindrops of color
Falling down from the collage of sunset
Beginning to paint a new picture
Its name will be Night

The domain of this place is not black but blue
Creating winds flow inwards
Without trace nor hue
But blessed with feeling and purpose

Bright, burning, untouchable fires
Not blaze but wink
In hundreds of eyes, filled with no ire
Have no voices besides the light they speak with

Stenciled sounds of silence and sleep
Fill the heads of those still dreaming
Of things too far and deep
For those who set to drain them away

Caricatures may rule the dark of Day
But here in Night
Sweet, sticky hope may stay
Until things called meddled conscience drive them out

The people in that land feel the need
To slap something shiny
On every perfectly plain piece or deed
We know better in the land called night

We know that these puzzle pieces are just fine
Without being shunned or torn down
For we know that ripping these parts of paper
Will only make the masterpiece more beautiful