Envelope

The night once again closes in,
with all of its blessing and sin.
I love how it completely surrounds
me with all of its resonant sounds.

As darkness sheathes all the light
within this most poetical rite—
ritual submerged in this ink,
now forging every single link.

Dipping ever deep my dry quill,
I relish the moment before the spill—
the pause before I then commence,
shed all ambiguity and pretense.

Let my pen now kiss this paper,
witnessed only by my red taper,
which illuminates my silent room,
a witness to every creative bloom.

Or so it always does seem…
within every single poetic dream,
a balance of both dread and hope,
as I hear the silence envelope.