Master the Night


Master the night in your own private dark,

conjure the squirrel’s horde in a desolate park,

fold the clouds in the grey realm of the lark,

rid yourself of the bonds that bind you still,

to the conventions of life’s pain beyond the hill.


Master the night as it glares at dream’s disdain,

wear the cloak of visibility in the cold dry rain,

fight the good fight with words and never pain,

calm yourself amid the fury of peace’s lean will

while others plague mortuaries with their kill.


Master the night for its darkness bodes us well

among the bracken forests of this desperate dell

where the lonely and insolent meet in holy hell.

The light is part of this open opposite here still

drawing from you life-blood, your hope and will.


Rochester, 2016


Follow me on Twitter @Malek_Montag15 or

Find my work on


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About malekmontag

I am a writer and a wage-slave, and proud father of George Giraffe. I live in the UK, but I exist everywhere. My first stories were published this year (2016) in Short Stories and Tall Tales (Atla Publishing). Follow me on Twitter @Malek_Montag15. My Work is also available on
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